Fullmetal Alchemist: Transmutation of the Unknowable
by Lacan Shinn
Summary: A small change in the sequence of events during the hunt for Isaac McDougal leads Edward and Alphonse Elric to learn the truth about Amestris before they visit Liore. Now the God within the planet's Gateway is sought by a broken alchemist born in Milos who desires to use the Truth as a tool to destroy what's real. Episode One divergent retelling of FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD.
1. Frost That Melts in the Harsh Light of D

**Author's Note:** I've written up to Chapter Twenty-Three of this story. I'm going to Post new batches of Chapters every Saturday night in honor of FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD airing on Cartoon Network on Saturday in 2010 and 2011. (If I can do it right, the following batches will begin showing up at 12:00 AM, when Season Two aired in 2011.)

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 **Author's Note Edit:** In recent years, I've Edited my stories a lot, so if I Edit one Chapter or more, I'll write about it in an Author's Note at the beginning of the next Chapter I Post.

I dedicate the first story of mine that's been put up anywhere Online in years to the now Account Deleted Mirriem and Myaru, two of the best and truest friends a person could hope to have, whose friendship and writing are central reasons I'm the person and the writer I am today.

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 **Author's Note Edit 2:** If anyone's impatient for new material (And if you're not, I'm fine with it. I don't write for attention.) I've made a number of small changes I consider to be important to Chapter Twenty-Four by now, including today. For those who can't find them (And if you can't, I don't blame you. They're small.) I'll identify the ones I can remember when I Post Chapter Twenty-Five.

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I hope you enjoy the story!

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 **FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST:**

 **TRANSMUTATION OF THE UNKNOWABLE**

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 **CHAPTER 1:**

 **FROST THAT MELTS IN THE HARSH LIGHT OF DAY**

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The sound of a gunshot rang out, and fiery anguish ripped up Isaac McDougal's left leg. He staggered, suppressing a curse, and even with his years of experience moving quickly across ice and keeping his balance while he did, he was nearly unable to keep himself from slipping on the transmuted bridge of ice.

Clenching his teeth against the agony, Isaac transmuted the ice bridge behind him with the imperfect Philosopher's Stone in his stomach, and it shifted outwards and up into a wall of ice in currents of coursing red energies, removing him from the line of sight of Mustang and the soldiers with him.

Isaac partially staggered, partially ran the rest of the way across the ice bridge, silently swearing at his stupidity. With the exception of the soldiers stationed at the borders, most of the Amestrian military lacked the proper training and experience to effectively fight defensively, the result of Amestris' history of belligerence. The troops stationed at Central, who had seen little, if any, military action since they'd enlisted, were among the best examples of Amestrian soldiers who suffered from this weakness. He hadn't believed any of the soldiers who had confronted him with Mustang had the initiative to open fire on him unless ordered to.

He'd underestimated them. Not that much – a soldier stationed on the Aerugoian, Cretan, or Drachman front would have successfully shot him in the head – but he'd underestimated them all the same.

He reached the roof of the building on the opposite side of the ice bridge and used his Stone to transmute in more red light, reconstructing the portion of the bridge meeting the roof into a wall of ice surrounding its edges and sending the rest of the bridge collapsing between the buildings as ice pieces. That would keep any unusual Central soldiers from firing on him again, and anyone from following him.

Shielded by the wall of ice, he sat down and pulled up his left uniform leg, then felt his injury and looked at it. From the amount of blood flowing out of it and the pain tearing out of it as he felt it, the bullet appeared to have passed clean through it.

Good.

He pressed the transmutation circle on the palm of his left hand to the injury, and used his knowledge of medical alkahestry to stop the flow of blood and close the wound in crackling blue. That wouldn't be nearly enough to treat an injury like this, but it would have to do for now.

He got to his feet and headed for the stairwell as fast as he could without aggravating the injury and reopening it. The wound would slow him down a little, but he could afford to take a little more time now. He'd prefer not to, and he couldn't take much more time, as he was being hunted, but there was a slight less need to hurry now.

The Xingese citywide transmutation circle was complete. All he had to do was activate it, and the Fϋhrer and the other depraved bastards in High Command who had exploited the people of Amestris since the government had established itself would be dealt a blow they'd never recover from. The people inside Amestris would be saved from the destiny the government had determined for them when they'd founded the nation, and it would never cause another Ishval.

Isaac would finally be able to justify drawing another breath.

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Edward Elric sighed in relief when he turned into the alley and saw no one else in it. Good. This might make things easier.

He walked forward, and saw the transmutation circle he'd believed he'd find on the alley floor, partially concealed beneath rocks. He knelt and began lifting them away from it.

Shortly, Al ran up to the opposite mouth of the alley.

"The Freezer isn't here," Edward spoke. "Just what he was up to."

Al walked up to Edward, and when Edward cleared the rocks off the transmutation circle, he clapped his hands, touched the stone in front of the circle, and raised the stone the left part of the circle was on up into the air in a wash of blue light, breaking the circle.

He stood up, turned to Alphonse, and grinned. "So much for whatever rotten trick he had planned. Now, we wait for him to show himself, and beat the stuffing out of him."

Al took a position on the opposite side of the broken circle, looking at the mouth of the alley closest to him, and his brother kept his eyes on the other entrance of the alley.

They didn't have to wait longer than what Ed estimated had been a few minutes when they heard footsteps approaching rapidly.

The male who had once been called the Freezer Alchemist rounded the corner at a partially fast walk, favoring a bloodied left leg, then started and halted. "You have got to be kidding me," McDougal commented. "First a greenhorn, then the naïve child breaks one of the transmutation seals." Ed's eyebrow twitched. "How did you find that circle?"

"We wondered what you were up to here last night," Edward responded, smirking and concealing his anger. "The game is up, bastard. You might as well come quietly."

The Freezer laughed harshly. "Dream on, brat. Get away from that transmutation seal, or I'll remove you from it myself."

"Keep dreaming yourself, you jerk," Ed retorted. "I'm not going to let you perform whatever sick transmutation you intend to. Your murdering spree ends here."

"Dismount your white horse, you naïve idiot," McDougal rejoined. "Your righteous yapping is beginning to tire me. You're no knight in shining armor. You're one of the farthest things from it. You have no idea what's at stake. You're a sheltered Dog of the Military kept so tame you don't know you're feasting on live prey when you're deployed and not eating store food in your kennel. You're the murderer, a mass murderer of defenseless civilians," Al, standing to Ed's left now, gasped, and Ed's jaw dropped at McDougal's accusation, speech fleeing him, "And you don't even see the leash that drags you to the repast."

Edward couldn't respond. He could just bare his teeth and shake with fury.

The former State Alchemist laughed. "Yelp all you want, boy, you know nothing of the wild. I'm doing what has to be done. You don't have the faintest glimmer what shape this country's in. If you knew you'd be helping me as opposed to carrying corpses to your master's tables, or I hope you would."

Ordinarily Ed wouldn't have asked a murderer like McDougal what delusional justification he thought he had for killing people. But ordinarily no one had accused Ed of the mass slaughter of civilians. He wanted to know what McDougal's justification was, so Edward could rip it to shreds before he punched the jerk's lights out. Edward didn't know if he could get a trustworthy answer, but he wanted to make the effort.

Furthermore, he could afford to ask. He and Al had the advantage.

Ed clenched his teeth. "All right," he snarled. "What shape _is_ this nation in?"

McDougal's eyes went wide.

Then he smiled slightly. "Well, well," he spoke. "There's hope you can see your leash after all. Very well. As an alchemist, you've heard of the Philosopher's Stone, correct?"

Edward's eyes widened, and an amount of his anger vanished. That was one of the last things he could have believed he'd hear.

He was extremely skeptical of McDougal's honestly, but his heart nevertheless pounded. Could what they'd been searching for for years have ended up coming to them? When they were on the verge of investigating another possible lead to the Stone?

"Of course," Ed replied, masking his excitement. "Why?"

"Think of what myths claim the Stone can do," McDougal responded. "It can break the Law of Equivalent Exchange, and can supposedly cure any sickness or injury and confer immortality. How, then, can a thing that can reconstruct the laws of life be transmuted into existence?"

Edward was no less skeptical now, but his excitement built. The former State Alchemist was asking that question as if he and Al should be able to figure out the answer without an incredible amount of trouble. Did that mean the Freezer knew how to create the Stone?

Edward's desire to tear up the Freezer's justification now felt incomparably less important.

He shared a look with Al, and Ed could tell from how his brother was standing Al felt the same ways Ed did.

"Why are you asking that as if we should be able to solve the mystery?" Edward queried. "Countless alchemists have spent their lives trying to discover how to transmute the Stone for centuries and failed. Why do you think we could arrive at the means with any less difficulty?"

"Because the countless alchemists who have pursued the Stone were all searching in the wrong direction," McDougal answered. "They all assumed transmuting the Stone requires components and a transmutation equation so brilliant it would take an unprecedented scientific breakthrough to discover how to make it. When, in truth, while the transmutation equation is far from basic, discovering the ingredient for the Stone is alchemy at its simplest."

Edward jolted violently, and his skepticism lessened, his heart rate picking up further. The concept was far too ludicrous for expression to encompass, but it also vouched for McDougal's honesty. Ed doubted the Freezer would have spoken of something so insane when he was attempting to bring them to his point of view; Ed doubted McDougal would risk the tactic of saying something crazy, so they'd fall for his deception because it didn't make sense for him to say it, to change their viewpoints. It had too much of a chance of backfiring and making them less inclined to believe him, and McDougal was pressed for time.

And that might mean McDougal genuinely _did_ know how to transmute the Stone.

"Think about it," McDougal continued. "You know what One is All, All is One means, and you know how the Law of Equivalent Exchange works. What would provide sustenance to something that can alter the laws of life in the chain of the universe, and what would need to be sacrificed to fashion it?"

Ed saw the answer without even needing to think about it, and every last drop of blood drained from his face. Reality reeled and tilted, and Al gasped and began to shake violently.

Edward couldn't process what McDougal had been getting at. Nor was there any way it could be true. There was completely no way the Philosopher's Stone could be transmuted from living human souls! Edward knew well the horrors transcending speech alchemy could create, but alchemy could just fashion those horrors if you tried to break Equivalent Exchange and didn't accept how the flow of the One and the All worked! If what McDougal was saying was true, these horrors were brought about through _following_ the Law of Equivalent Exchange and harnessing the flow of the world as alchemy was supposed to! Alchemy couldn't do, or produce, something that ghastly! Additionally, while alchemists could be amoral bastards, no alchemist would treat human life as a laboratory sample! No alchemist would perform a transmutation like that or transmute something like that!

And if it was true, it might mean there was no way for Ed to restore his brother to a body that could feel, and there was no way for them to get their bodies back.

It didn't matter if it was insane enough to be true. It was still ludicrous enough it couldn't be!

"You're… you're lying to us," Ed responded, voice extremely sick and strangled, and with those words his mind resumed processing reality to an extent. He became aware his heart was beating rapidly for an entirely different reason now, however, and breathing was harder than usual. He wished desperately he could reject the Freezer's words more greatly than he was, outwardly and internally, but Edward didn't have that option. He couldn't turn a blind eye when it was even just a possibility the military was trying to transmute souls into the Philosopher's Stone, or already had, and he couldn't transmute the Stone now to give Al back his body unless Edward was sure he wouldn't sacrifice anyone by doing so. If the Philosopher's Stone already existed, Ed didn't know if he could risk _using_ the Stone. If McDougal was telling the truth, the souls comprising the Stone might still be aware, and it might be possible to return them to their bodies as it might be possible to return Al to his. Even if the souls weren't aware and couldn't be returned to their bodies, they might still be alive and human. Maybe the souls were dead, unaware, not truly aware, or couldn't be restored to their bodies if the Freezer was being honest, and that meant using an existing Stone might not be wrong even if the Stone was transmuted from human souls, but Edward was very unsure he could believe that. He couldn't reject McDougal's words more greatly when Ed's brother and who knew how many other people depended on him knowing if the Freezer was being honest.

Because of that, though Edward didn't want to admit it to himself, he was so terrified he couldn't describe it. That alchemy could genuinely do something as horrible as transmuting living humans or truly create something as horrific as what the Philosopher's Stone would be if it was formed from human souls, that alchemists would truly treat humans as laboratory samples and genuinely enact transmutations or transmute something that did, that the essential thing he had faith in genuinely possessed the ability to be terrible. In addition, he was terrified surmounting the word Al and he would be trapped in their current bodies for the rest of their lives.

"Or you think you're telling the truth but you're actually mistaken," Edward continued. "You're a slimeball who thinks he's discovered something no one else has in your arrogance. State Alchemists are human weapons, but alchemy and alchemists aren't capable of bringing about death _that_ horribly!"

The former State Alchemist snorted. "A Dog of the Military who doesn't know how effectively alchemy can bring death. I never thought I'd encounter it. Alchemists don't need to transmute the Philosopher's Stone to commit mass murder. You must not know how the Ishvalan Civil War was won. Amestris defeated the Ishvalan rebels by deploying State Alchemists to virtually wipe the Ishvalan race from the face of the planet."

Yeah, right.

This claim was out there, but not as out there as the claim finding the ingredient for the Stone was rudimentary alchemy. The Freezer _was_ lying. His words about Ishval weren't as unbelievable as his words about the Stone, so they were almost certainly false, and that revealed he was deceiving them. It was still possible McDougal was telling the truth because he'd spoken of something insane, but it was unlikely in light of his claim about Ishval. How Ed was taking this was absurd. As well, the Freezer was a murderer. He couldn't be trusted. Ed shouldn't be letting this get to him.

Reality stabilized, and he could fully process it.

But why _would_ McDougal say something as crazy as that discovering the ingredient for the Stone was rudimentary alchemy if he was attempting to trick them?

"Do you honestly think I'll believe the military would do that?" Ed questioned. "I know the military isn't an upstanding institution, or alchemists wouldn't be considered stained if they work for it. But the military isn't an oppressor. If it was, it'd have been thrown down long ago."

But he knew that argument had no legs to stand on. Most Amestrians wouldn't care if a rebellion launched by an ethnic minority had been put down so brutally.

Could it be true? Could the military have genuinely committed unimaginable atrocities? Could _Mustang_ and _Hawkeye_ have committed genocide? Could these atrocities have been carried out by _transmutations_?

Could the Philosopher's Stone truly be composed of human souls?

Edward was terrified now in a way that had just been surpassed by the terror that wasn't terror he'd experienced the night of the failed human transmutation. He didn't care about shredding McDougal's justification any more at all now. He didn't want to hear this any longer.

But there was no choice in the matter. There was a possibility McDougal was telling the truth, so Ed had to continue this discussion. Al and an unknown number of other people were at stake. Ed had to hear more, and try to find out if McDougal was lying or not.

Further, Edward didn't want to even think about the mere possibility any of McDougal's revelations were genuine, but he knew he had to confront the truth. He was an alchemist, and alchemists pursued the truth. He didn't want to face possible truths like these, he wanted to incapacitate the Freezer quickly and turn him over to the military police or Central soldiers and then never go near him or talk to him again, but Edward couldn't practice alchemy if he was unwilling to hear possible truths.

He'd hear the Freezer further, and attempt to discover if McDougal was being honest, and Ed would ask Mustang what had happened in Ishval before they left for Liore. Even if that meant discovering the institution Edward worked for, and the people and friends he knew within it, had committed genocide; the alchemy he trusted in could be terrible; alchemy could create horrors through transmutations that _didn't_ defy Equivalent Exchange or swim against the current of matter that circulated through reality; and he might not be able to give Al back a feeling body.

"I don't think you'll believe me without proof," McDougal responded, looking as if he'd thought something through and made a choice. "But I have proof."

Ed started.

To his shock, McDougal stuck his fingers into his mouth and gagged. When he removed them, he was holding a partially translucent red marble between his fingers.

Most of reality outside of himself, Al, the Freezer, and the red marble ceased to exist, and Edward had an even harder time breathing now, beginning to shake himself, violently. Al's shaking had been subsiding, but now it resumed.

Then powerful desire surged through Ed, and he suppressed it, completely disgusted with himself.

If this genuinely was an already existing Philosopher's Stone, if this meant the Freezer wasn't lying, Ed very possibly couldn't justify using a Stone that had already been transmuted from souls. Not when those souls might be aware, might be able to be restored, might be alive, and remained human. How could he want the Stone this badly now, when McDougal might really be telling the truth!?

Unable to think of what to say, transfixed, looking on with something akin to horrified fascination, Edward saw McDougal reach into his right uniform pants pocket with his right hand and take out a crumpled up piece of paper, flatten it well enough Ed and Alphonse would be able to see the front and back clearly, and show them both sides were blank and had no transmutation circles on them.

The Freezer threw him the paper, and, still unable to think of anything to say, Edward felt over it until he was certain it was nothing more than real paper without anything hidden inside it. Consciously inhaling and exhaling in a futile attempt to breathe close to regularly, his grip on the paper shaking badly, Edward handed the piece of paper to McDougal.

Red coursed out of the marble, over McDougal's body, and onto the piece of paper, and a large diamond grew out of the paper. McDougal threw the diamond and the undamaged paper to Ed, and Ed placed them on the alley floor. He clapped his hands, touched the paper, and transmuted it into an origami fist in currents of blue, transmuting the matter of the paper precisely enough to confirm it possessed the same constitution as regular paper. Then Ed clapped his hands and touched the diamond, transmuting it into a fist in crackling blue and confirming by his ability to transmute it at least part of it was made up of the same matter as regular diamond.

He stood up on a leg that didn't exist and turned to Al, Alphonse now shaking violently. "They're the real things," he said to his brother. "Additionally, McDougal didn't use up any of the matter in the paper to transmute the diamond."

"But that means…" Al breathed. Ed was certain he was going to throw up violently. He knew Al couldn't feel it, but Ed had to do _something_ to try to support his brother, and he gripped Al's arm with his flesh hand, to attempt to give support and draw it from Alphonse.

It was all probably true. The ingredient for transmuting the Philosopher's Stone, and that the military, that friends and other people he knew and worked with, had inflicted genocide. McDougal probably wouldn't have revealed to his enemies he possessed an ace in the hole like the Philosopher's Stone if he wasn't genuinely trying to reach them. He probably would have kept it secret, fought them, and used it to catch them by surprise during the battle.

Please, no. Alchemists wouldn't do things like this. Alchemy couldn't do things like this.

This might mean there was no way to give Al his body back.

This _couldn't_ be real.

But it probably was the truth. Alchemy probably _could_ warp the lives, face to face with the probable existence of these atrocities, he was genuinely seeing as what they were for the first time in all their priceless capacity for happiness and fathomless ability to experience torture. Alchemists probably _would_ alter these incomprehensibly alive people. He couldn't deny this reality.

No. Oh, please. No.

The Freezer gave them an amused look. "This shouldn't be difficult for you to accept, even though you weren't aware about Ishval. Alchemists warp human lives as though humans are no more than lab samples all the time. As a State Alchemist, you should know that better than most. Dogs of the Military are human weapons who kill when ordered to without speaking a whisper requesting their orders be retracted." Edward held Al's arm tighter. "Are you truly so naïve you've been thinking of their murders as something different than 'warping people's lives?'"

Edward had been, but he wasn't so clueless he couldn't see there _was_ no other valid way to think of murder. That meant, even though it still wasn't wholly a sure thing McDougal was being honest, alchemists _did_ treat human life as no more than a laboratory sample. That much was irrefutable. Nor was it just unique, incredibly unscrupulous alchemists who did. _Common_ alchemists treated humans as lab samples.

Further, now that Ed could see how naïve he'd been, he could see he hadn't even genuinely comprehended what the amoral words and actions he'd been aware alchemists were willing to say and take had meant. Those words and actions, too, altered human life. He'd just never thought of it that way before.

Whether the Freezer was being honest or not, the reality Ed was now truly aware of wasn't what Ed had thought it was. It, and alchemy, and alchemists, were far more horrible than he could have dreamed of in his worst nightmares even after what he and Alphonse had been through and seen the night of the human transmutation.

Please. No.

"So you _have_ been." McDougal shook his head. "Unbelievable.

"At any rate, the military gave me this," McDougal said, holding out the Philosopher's Stone, "As a weapon to amplify my Water Alchemy during the Ishvalan Civil War." Edward found himself unable to look away from the Freezer's Stone, even though seeing it now made his stomach heave violently. That thing was probably distilled _people_. "It's an experimental substance transmuted as a prototype Stone that could collapse at any time. But the military researchers who have transmuted them were able to confirm the real Philosopher's Stone is also created from human souls by studying this. The missing piece of the puzzle the Fϋhrer and High Command," this went all the way to the top? But Edward was having too much trouble taking in this new reality, horrible more than thought could convey, to be extremely shocked or anything else, "didn't give them is the proper equation, not the proper ingredient or proper ingredients.

"But the government already knows the proper equation. It's known it for centuries, since before it founded this nation." Now Ed _did_ experience shock beyond shock, and he suppressed his impulse to tell McDougal he was lying again. The concept the government had been deceiving the people of Amestris since Amestris was _born_ was even crazier than the concept discovering the ingredient for the Stone was rudimentary alchemy, but McDougal's revelation he possessed a prototype Stone made his honesty probable. "The researchers who transmuted these were put to work to create Philosopher's Stones for the military without being told their research was meant to supplement what the government already possessed, and is seeking to obtain. The government has transmuted thousands of true Philosopher's Stones."

Ed had to be dreaming. He could just be hearing this in a dream. There was utterly no way something _that_ farfetched could be real.

But the cold metal of Al's armor shaking violently under his left hand proved this was no dream.

Maybe _Edward_ was the insane one. Maybe that explained why he was hearing this.

Maybe that explained why he was _buying_ this, because a sane mind shouldn't have been able to, no matter how much the former State Alchemist's revelation he had a prototype Stone vouched for his honesty.

But Ed knew better than that. The Freezer's revelation he possessed a prototype Stone made his honesty probable, so a sane mind could believe this. Edward _wished_ he could believe he might be insane, but he was aware he wasn't able to.

"They've spread them underground as Amestris has expanded to partially inhibit the connection Amestrian alchemists have with the tectonic energy that powers their transmutations," McDougal was continuing. "I assume the legendary 'Western Sage' who taught Amestrians how to harness tectonic energy was in league with the founders of Amestris, and he or she taught the people who lived in what became Amestris to harness tectonic energy so the future citizens of Amestris would use a form of alchemy the government could control and keep from being wielded against them. I don't practice Amestrian alchemy any longer. I practice alkahestry, the alchemic techniques of the nation of Xing to the east, to keep the government from transmuting with the Stones to entirely block my connection to my power source.

"But the government's brutal suppression of the Ishvalan rebellion and their willingness to sacrifice human lives to control and oppress its people scratch the surface of how far they're willing to go. Amestris was founded, taught a field of alchemy that would make it prosperous and encourage people to emigrate to it, and expanded through conquest for a single purpose, and over the centuries since its inception the government has orchestrated massive bloodshed at specific locations, at the lost nation of Riviere and Fisk and Ishval and multiple other places, gradually accomplishing that purpose. It's a purpose Amestris is now on the verge of fulfilling. I don't know what they want it for, but the government founded Amestris to fashion an underground nationwide transmutation circle meant to convert its innumerable residents and visitors into components of a special, colossal Philosopher's Stone."

The rest of reality vanished.

On the farthest edges of his perception, Edward was aware Al had grabbed him around the back and was holding him up with a violently shaking arm, and Ed's violently shaking automail arm was partway around Al's back, attempting to further offer him support, but those things felt as if they were happening somewhere so far away the distance could never be measured or crossed, and they were distorted, and as if they were happening to two other people, not him and his brother.

 _This_ was part of the flow of the One and the All? _This_ could happen within reality when the cause wasn't a natural disaster like the meteor strike that had wiped out the dinosaurs? Alchemists were willing to do _this? Alchemy_ , the alchemy he believed in, could do _this?_

"That can't be." Horror had shrunk Al's voice down to something very small, and it was a voice that sounded like it wasn't aware anything whatsoever existed. "I can believe you about the prototype Stones and the regular real Stones, and about Ishval, but this… whatever you experienced in Ishval destroyed your ability to see people for what they are. You must be wrong about this. _No one_ is capable of the kind of inhumanity you're talking about. People can be cruel and apathetic, but this… no one is _that_ indifferent to suffering and death."

"Grow up, boy," McDougal answered, but there was sympathy in his voice now. "Humans can sink to depths of depravity you've never dreamed of in your sheltered world. Doctors in Ishval burnt countless Ishvalan prisoners, spread toxic chemicals on them, injected poisons into them, tortured them with instruments, and experimented on them in assorted other ways to test the effects of injury and pain on the human body, then dissected their corpses to study the human body further, and didn't hesitate once to do it." Edward felt his mind retreating further and further from reality as McDougal talked. "I've seen soldiers shoot elderly Ishvalans who can barely walk, women, children, and infants without batting an eye because they were ordered to. I'm not wrong. I know _exactly_ what people are capable of. The world's not a kind and happy place like it's portrayed in a children's storybook. That's something you need to learn if you genuinely want to be an alchemist. If you're not willing to face the truth, you have no business studying alchemy."

Edward didn't want to face the truth any more. He wanted to wake up in his warm bed with the Sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of Mom's pancakes in the air and run into the kitchen and bury himself in her warm embrace and close his eyes, and stay there, safe and protected from a reality immeasurably more sadistic than the human mind, awake or asleep, should have been able to think of. Edward wanted to wake up to Al's heartbeat against his as Edward held his brother after he'd been driven into Ed's bed after a nightmare and discover that everything that had happened since Mom's collapse from illness had been nothing more than a delirious nightmare _Edward's_ mind had conjured up in the midst of a fever, that Mom was alive and fully healthy and Al was warm and whole and Edward was completely intact and that was never going to change. He wanted to lose himself in an alchemy textbook opened in front of him on the floor with Al laying at his side reading the book too and Den's warm and furry body resting atop the backs of their legs, then argue with Al over whether all the parts of the hypothesis or theory or law they'd read made sense until Mom interrupted them and told them it was time to do their homework. Ed wanted to race outside to Winry's trying and failing to outpace the more athletic Al and run with Al and Winry with the soft green grass under his bare feet and cerulean skies above them with fluffy clouds drifting through it and the gentle breeze blowing on their faces, and laugh and roll through the grass with them as they immersed themselves in a three-way tickle fight.

He didn't want to confront this life any longer.

Even the failed human transmutation hadn't prepared him for _this_. It hadn't come the slightest bit close.

Death and suffering like _this_ was part of the flow of matter in reality!? How could _anyone_ face a reality like _that!?_

And why should he face the truth? The Philosopher's Stone really existed, but he might not be able to use it anyway. Everything might have all been for nothing. Joining the military, tainting his name, all the researching, all the traveling, all the missions he'd had to achieve to fulfill his duty as a soldier, all the times they'd chased the most unbelievable rumors, all of it. They might be condemned to live this way for the rest of their lives. What was the point of confronting the truth now, when Al–

No. That wasn't a question.

 _That_ was why he had to face the truth. As hard as it was for him to look at what McDougal had told him, although he couldn't accept it, his much kinder younger brother must be taking it much harder. That was why he had to face this life. He had to take care of Al.

That was all that mattered.

Reality returned, though it was endlessly darker and colder and more ghastly than thought could comprehend. Inexpressibly wishing he could reach the top of his brother's head, Ed placed his hand on Al's shoulder and rubbed it, trying to still his arm's shakes.

The Freezer's eyes widened.

"It's okay," Ed spoke gently to his brother. "If McDougal is telling the truth, we won't let any of this happen." Could he truly believe that? This was _far_ too big for Edward to even wrap his mind around. Could he tackle something of this scale? But it didn't matter if he could. He couldn't walk away from an abomination that would kill Al, Winry, Granny, and Ed's friends if it was put in motion, or at the least trap Al's soul in a worse state than he was already in and rip Winry and Granny and all Ed's other friends from their bodies too. Limitations defying terror and terror of Al and Winry and Granny dying or all but dying, and of losing them as he'd lost his mother, consumed him completely. This time Al and Winry and Granny needed to be saved, so Edward had to tackle anything, no matter how large it was. Nor could he turn away from an atrocity this horrific, even more so because he was now aware of what the lives of people other than Al's and Winry's and Granny's truly were after what he'd found out about the Philosopher's Stone, Ishval, and the nationwide transmutation circle. He had to try. Furthermore, how big something was had never stopped him before, so it wasn't going to stop him now. "The military won't do what they did in Ishval again, and myself and Winry and Granny and you and the people in this nation won't be sacrificed to fashion a Stone."

Al didn't respond right away, but after a few seconds passed his shaking began to subside again. After a few more seconds he said, voice very unsteady but no longer small, "That's right. Nothing will happen to me or Winry or Granny or you. And we won't let any of it take place. Be assured of that, Brother."

Ed had nothing in him that could smile, but he forced himself to do it anyway at his brother's attempt to comfort him.

Ed anchored himself with the familiar coldness of Al's metal arm around his back and drew strength from that reassuring and familiar hardness and cold to settle a stomach that wanted to retch violently for eternity as best as he could; to banish the terror, and worse, for the danger he now knew Al and Winry and Granny and uncountable other people were in as best as Ed could; and to banish the terror of this new, abominable reality he now found himself in and everything else as best as he could.

Then he looked at the former State Alchemist.

"Believe me," Edward spoke. "We know all about facing the truth."

One corner of McDougal's mouth turned up slightly. "Perhaps you do. Teenagers no more extraordinary than ones with the inner strength to serve, or work with, the military wouldn't have recovered this quickly. And teenagers no more extraordinary than those would be doubled over throwing up." Edward winced, and as he had so many times before, he wondered who he would be now if he hadn't lost his innocence that night of blood and blinding pain and incomprehensible loss surmounting thought. "You must have already been through something horrible."

Ed grimaced. "You have no idea."

"So you'll help me?" McDougal asked. "Then stand aside and let me fix that seal."

The concept of even thinking of talking to someone who had probably helped commit genocide on cordial terms, never mind working with that person, caused Ed to feel uncomfortable, and the former State Alchemist was a murderer. But Edward knew thinking of the former State Alchemist as any more of a murderer than Mustang or most other soldiers were probably made no sense. McDougal was probably telling the truth, so he was probably no more or less guilty of killing than most other members of the military. Additionally, Ed wasn't going to stop being Hawkeye's and Armstrong's friend, and would still fight at their sides if they needed his help, even though they had probably assisted in the massacre of the Ishvalans. So as uncomfortable thinking of talking to, or working with, someone who had probably perpetrated exterminating a race made Edward, he couldn't let his discomfort affect whether or not he allied with the Freezer. Even more so with how incomprehensibly much was at stake.

But Ed crossed his arms, suppressing a surge of misgiving. He couldn't give up on his morals because he needed to deal with people incomparably more amoral than he could have believed it was possible for people to be, and immeasurably more was at stake than he could have believed it was possible for things to be. He couldn't let McDougal continue to murder. "No. I'm not going to let the Fϋhrer sacrifice the people in this nation, but I'm not going to let you sacrifice anyone to stop him either."

McDougal scowled. "This isn't the time for idealism, boy. I'm doing what I'm doing because humans are capable of _this_. The government just needs to orchestrate extensive bloodshed at two more points on the circle to finish powering it, and I'm sure they're done digging it or are close to finished digging it. The circle could be complete in a matter of months. I need to throw Bradley down without delay. Don't tell me to search for a better way. I can't risk millions of lives for a virtuous daydream."

"Dismount _your_ white horse," Ed threw the Freezer's words back in his face. "You'll never convince me it's right to fight bloodshed with bloodshed. I am going to help you." Even though Edward knew he couldn't do something different, he still couldn't believe he was saying those words to someone who had probably assisted in carrying out genocide.

Nor, even though he was going to do it, could he believe he was going to continue to call people who had probably assisted in committing genocide friends, he cared about the welfare of all the people inside Amestris and the military's doings and goals, or he was standing in a narrow alley discussing high treason against the government of the nation he lived in with a rebel. How had his whole life been upended so completely in such a short amount of time?

"But I'll help you in a way no one gets killed in the process," Edward finished.

It would be a lot easier to thwart the Fϋhrer and High Command by warning the populace of what it was safe to reveal the government was doing. Many people wouldn't believe Ed and Al, but enough would the Fϋhrer would likely be cast down.

However, taking that path had a much greater chance of leading to bloodshed. Under other circumstances, Ed would have taken it and tried to keep it from causing death after warning the people. He wasn't going to let someone kill if he was in a position to make a difference and stop it, but, as much as he loathed doing it, he was willing to fight at the side of others who were willing to kill if he couldn't convince those people not to kill, knew his chances of doing so were unlikely, or couldn't otherwise prevent murder. He'd done it plenty of times since becoming a Dog of the Military, and he could do it again.

But if he took that road now, he'd have no alternatives to give McDougal that might truly avert bloodshed, and giving the Freezer such an alternative might be the only way Edward could convince him not to try to execute his plan, whatever it was. Not taking that trail meant Ed was being far more irresolute than he usually was, but Ed couldn't allow the Freezer to attempt to. Ed and Al couldn't solve this by alerting the public of the Fϋhrer's schemes.

McDougal laughed. "' _No one_ ' gets killed? What kind of a wool-headed naïve idealist are you? No matter what method I use, the Fϋhrer and High Command aren't going to meekly step down. I'll have to shed blood to save this country regardless of what path I take."

"Do you truly want to resign yourself to that when there's still time to search for alternatives and you have a State Alchemist on the inside willing to help you?" Edward responded.

Nor could he believe he was willing to remain a State Alchemist now that he knew what the military was probably striving to do. But he had to. If he didn't, they might not be able to overthrow the government without shedding blood.

"Or were you lying when you spoke of wanting to stop bloodshed in Amestris?" Edward asked.

McDougal's face became a mask, and Ed waited as the former State Alchemist thought.

At last he sighed heavily and replied, "You have a point. You're right. I _don't_ want to resign myself to shedding blood if I can avoid it. If you have any ideas for how to save Amestris without shedding blood, I'll try to see them through."

Ed sighed in relief. Irrational as it was, he still wanted to beat the stuffing out of McDougal, but it was better they resolved this nonviolently.

He hoped this meant they _had_ resolved this nonviolently. The former State Alchemist probably wasn't lying about Ishval and the Stone, but there was no guarantee he wasn't lying about his willingness not to shed blood in order to trick them into leaving the "transmutation seal" so he could return to it once they were gone.

But Ed had to trust McDougal was also telling the truth about this. There was too much at stake to do otherwise. Edward didn't involve other people in his and Al's problems unless there was no other choice he could make, but this was a time there was no other choice. This was too big for Ed to tackle with no one but Al assisting him. Ed needed McDougal's help, and that meant Ed had to trust the Freezer.

Edward hoped he was doing the right thing.

"But if you don't have any plans," McDougal went on, "Or your plans don't get us anywhere, I'm staying with or returning to my current method." His eyes challenged Edward to try and stop him if he did, and Ed met his gaze, challenging him back to try to pull it off again. "That's all I'll agree to." Edward wasn't disappointed. This was the reply he'd believed he'd get.

"Do you have any ideas?"

Edward did, but he wasn't sure the one he had was a good one. Asking Mustang for help had as much of a chance of getting people murdered as letting McDougal activate his transmutation seal did. But it was the only way Edward could think of he would even have a _chance_ at saving Amestris without shedding blood.

Ed didn't want to talk about his idea, though. He had to involve other people this time, but Ed could think of just one other person he'd want to ask for help less than Mustang.

There was way too much at stake for this to be the time for Ed's issues with the Colonel, though, and although he didn't want to admit it to himself, now that he was thinking about it, he knew Mustang could be trusted. Hawkeye, too. There was far too much at stake for Edward to let his discomfort prevent him from speaking to Mustang and Hawkeye, as well.

"I'll talk to Mustang," Ed replied. McDougal frowned. "You can trust him. I've worked under him for years at the Eastern Command Center, and while he's a bastard, he has standards. He'd never be a knowing party to something like what you're talking about. We'll investigate the military's dirty dealings, find proof of their abuses of power, and expose what we can to the military at large without revealing anything about the Philosopher's Stone to them. Whatever orders they followed in Ishval, I doubt most of the soldiers in the military will willingly obey their superiors when they find out they're being ordered to slaughter the _entire_ population of the nation." Edward was experiencing additional discomfort at the concept of working with many of the soldiers who had slaughtered the Ishvalans, but he wasn't letting his discomfort persuade him to alter his idea. "If their own military turns against them, High Command and the Fϋhrer will be at a disadvantage and might abdicate without it coming to a fight, in possession of Philosopher's Stones or not."

"That's hopelessly naïve," the Freezer returned, "And childish. But there's a small chance it will work.

"So what the heck?" The Freezer looked amused he was saying this. "Give it a shot, and I'll hope my pragmatism is proven unnecessary and your idea works."

Ed blinked. "You won't be helping us investigate?"

McDougal sighed in exasperation. "I can see you're a greenhorn too. You're skilled at fighting, but you have lousy operational sense. If we work together in each other's company, there's too much of a risk of you being seen with me and identified as traitors." Oh. Of course. How could Edward have missed that? "I'll give you the leads I'm aware of, but that's all I can do unless you're successful in getting enough of the military on your side they'll turn a blind eye to my presence. I'll find a place to lay low and record my studies of alkahestry in encoded tomes, then get them to you and Mustang, so the government can't prevent you from transmuting if things get ugly."

"Point taken," Ed spoke. "What are your leads?"

"I was given my fake Philosopher's Stone by the Celestial Catalyst Alchemist," McDougal responded, "Tim Marcoh. He and the researchers working under him transmuted Stones at the supposedly abandoned Laboratory Five here in Central by using prisoners condemned to death as the ingredients. Marcoh vanished at the end of the Ishvalan War of Extermination, however, and I don't know what's become of him. I can give you a list of the researchers working with him, though, in case any of them are still serving the military. Marcoh's the one who told me how the Stone was made. I was appalled at how much destruction it could wreck and returned it to him, but Marcoh said it was better off in my hands than in the hands of someone more amoral, and told me the reasons why were also because of how it was transmuted. Then he told me how to create it.

"I found out about the existence of the underground network of Philosopher's Stones from an Ishvalan alchemist when the war was almost over. I was ambushed by Ishvalans on a scouting mission, badly wounded, and left for dead, and the Ishvalan alchemist found me and used alkahestry to heal my injuries. He wore glasses and transmuted using tattoos covering his left and right arms. As gratitude for him saving my life, I let him know I intended to resign my commission after the war was over and try to overthrow the government, thus preventing Amestris from inflicting such atrocities on ethnic minorities again. The alchemist advised me not to use Amestrian alchemy to oppose them, and told me he'd discovered souls were gathered together like they were in a Philosopher's Stone under all Amestris, and what they were doing. The Ishvalans who survived the Extermination War are scattered all over Amestris now, but if he survived, maybe you'll be able to find him. But be prepared; the Ishvalan religion forbids alchemy, so the alchemist may be hiding his practice of it.

"Regretfully, I have no leads to offer you that might give you evidence Bradley is constructing a nationwide transmutation circle. I discovered it exists myself after I resigned as a State Alchemist. I didn't understand why the Fϋhrer had expended so many resources pacifying Ishval, too many for me to believe the reason was to discourage rebellion elsewhere with a show of overwhelming force, when there was no vitally important reason it be kept stable. I looked into the methods the government had used to suppress other revolts, seeking an answer, and it was then I saw all the most brutally suppressed revolts, including Ishval, had occurred at places that matched the points of the transmutation circle used to fashion the Philosopher's Stone in Laboratory Five. I researched what, if any, bloody incidents had occurred at the other points, and what I found confirmed my suspicions and revealed this had been happening since the beginning of Amestris.

"I can, however, tell you where the two places that have yet to see extensive bloodshed are. The town of Liore," Ed started, "In the northeast, and Fort Briggs, at the northern border with Drachma."

All-consuming desperate hope this _was_ a lie took Edward. Perhaps McDougal had found out they'd been deployed to Liore before Mustang had assigned them to take down the Freezer, and had chosen this lie because he could fit Liore into it and cater to their existing beliefs something unusual might be going on there.

No. That still wouldn't give McDougal reason to prove to an enemy he possessed an imperfect Philosopher's Stone.

That Liore was being targeted by Bradley was probably nothing but an ironic coincidence.

"You're a naive greenhorn," the former State Alchemist spoke, "But I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Do you have any advice for me?"

Ed tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind, and that made him feel very uncomfortable. For the first time he became aware how truly far in over his head he was in this.

But that also hadn't stopped him before, so it wasn't about to stop him now, too.

"I'm sorry," Ed responded. "I don't have any idea what to say."

The Freezer snorted. "At least you're honest about it."

He looked around Edward at McDougal's broken transmutation seal, and Edward tensed. But the Freezer just sighed.

"There's no time like the present," he spoke. "I'd best pull out of Central."

He put his Stone in his mouth and swallowed it.

Edward wasn't sure whether or not he was irritated at the surge of concern he experienced. "Is that safe?" he asked. "If the Philosopher's Stone is transmuted from human souls, isn't making it a part of your body dangerous for your soul?"

"It's safe to my knowledge," McDougal replied. "Occasionally swallowing it transmutes my pupils from blue to red for the duration of its stay inside my body, and my body retches the Stone up every few days, but other than that, swallowing it does nothing to me I'm aware of."

Ed nodded.

McDougal bent and picked up the piece of paper and the diamond, then pocketed the diamond, took a pen out of his left uniform pants pocket, and wrote a number of names on the piece of paper.

"These are the names of the researchers who worked under Doctor Marcoh." He gave the paper to Edward and Ed took it and put it in his pocket. "I'll be in touch." He turned to walk off.

Disgusted with himself, Edward suppressed the urge to ask McDougal to let him keep the Stone. McDougal needed all the aces in the hole the Freezer could possess to defend himself, and if Ed could use a Stone to give Al his body back, Ed could find one underground easily enough. They no longer needed to search for the Philosopher's Stone. The question now was whether they could use it.

It was a question Edward extremely highly doubted he'd be able to answer any time in the near future with what else he'd learned tonight.

There had been thousands of Philosopher's Stones beneath his feet all this time. The knowledge staggered him.

McDougal walked out of the alley, and if Ed hadn't needed to support his brother, he would have fallen to his knees.

The Philosopher's Stone was composed of living humans. The military had founded Amestris, orchestrated massive bloodshed and a genocidal war, and enlarged the nation through wars, to turn its countless residents into a Philosopher's Stone, and if they were successful Al and Winry and Granny would be among them. Common alchemists warped humans as though they were laboratory samples. The alchemy he believed in could inflict horrors nothing in human history could even brush.

They might not be able to get their bodies back. It might all have been a wild goose chase after all.

Edward didn't know how much time passed, barely aware he was looking out at the alley, before Al queried, "Brother?" voice very unsteady and horrified and terrified and agonized and worried more than Edward could fathom. "What do we do now?"

How could he answer that? Besides saying the obvious, they couldn't walk away from everyone who was in danger so they had to try to overthrow Fϋhrer Bradley? "I don't know."

The familiar indefinable terror consumed him completely, and he could no longer take it. He had to question it.

"Al," he began. "There's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time, but I've never brought it up because I've been afraid of your reply."

"Why is that?" Al questioned.

"Because…" Edward's lungs stopped working, and he couldn't think. He couldn't talk about it, and he started to shake violently. He was an alchemist, but there were truths he couldn't face under every circumstance. If Al said he hated him, it would destroy everything that comprised Ed's existence, and Ed was in much less condition to go through that now than he would be if he hadn't just learned what he'd learned.

"Never mind," Edward finished.

He didn't know what to say, and he extremely highly doubted Al did, so there was almost certainly nothing to talk about now. He extricated himself from Al's hold.

"We don't have time now to worry about how" ' _how_ ,' not ' _if_ ,' "we're going to get our bodies back if we can't use the Philosopher's Stone," Ed spoke. "Let's find the Colonel."

.

Colonel Mustang was standing at the corner of two boulevards near the Central Command Center, Lieutenant Hawkeye and a group of soldiers clustered with him. The Flame Alchemist was drenched all over save for on the reactive gloves on his hands, had an aggravated frown on his face, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was holding a briefcase Ed assumed possessed spare reactive gloves with Flame Alchemy transmutation circles for Mustang to wear.

The Colonel had obviously encountered McDougal and paid for it.

If circumstances had been ordinary, to the extent that anything in Ed's life could have been termed "ordinary," Edward would have smirked, proceeded to give the Colonel as hard a time as he could, and savored every instant. It wasn't often the Colonel was inconvenienced this greatly.

But circumstances were so far from "ordinary" now no speech could encompass how much.

And just seeing Mustang and Hawkeye made Edward more uncomfortable in countless ways. He was trying to accept the knowledge the Colonel and Hawkeye had probably assisted in massacring the Ishvalans, and Edward was continuing to think of Hawkeye as a friend and Mustang as an acquaintance Ed could talk to, but it didn't prevent him from feeling this uncomfortable. Seeing McDougal was one thing. Ed didn't know the former State Alchemist, and Ed didn't need to continue to think of McDougal as a friend. But the Colonel and Hawkeye were people Ed knew, and he felt betrayed they had probably participated in exterminating an ethnic group. Further, Hawkeye _was_ a friend.

Feeling betrayed was irrational. The Ishvalan Civil War had ended before Edward had met Mustang and the Lieutenant. Edward shouldn't feel betrayed by them for actions they'd probably taken before he'd met them. But he did all the same. Furthermore, feeling more uncomfortable seeing Hawkeye because he still thought of the Lieutenant as a friend was irrational as well. He wasn't just going to remain her friend, he knew her well enough to know she wasn't an apathetic or sadistic monster, and almost certainly wouldn't have murdered noncombatants.

But the Colonel and she had still probably aided and abetted a massacre. It was irrational, but Edward still felt further uncomfortable at the concept of speaking to them.

Hawkeye noticed him and Al first as they walked up to the gathering of soldiers, and if she was surprised at the look that must be on Ed's face, she didn't show it. "Edward," she greeted. "No luck finding him, huh?"

"I'll give you my report in private," Ed answered. "Can we talk somewhere away from these other soldiers?"

"And give McDougal the chance to sneak by me and humiliate me again?" Mustang responded. "Not happening."

Edward clenched his teeth.

"Throw your stupid ego in a ditch," Ed rejoined, and Mustang bristled. "This involves alchemical secrets regular people shouldn't know."

Mustang's demeanor became professional. "Is that so?" he asked. "Very well." He gestured at a darkened store with his head. "We'll talk in a back room in there." He looked at the other soldiers. "If any of you see McDougal or evidence he's nearby, alert me right away."

"Yes, sir," one of the soldiers replied, saluting.

.

Mustang stood in the aisle of the storage room, no hint of what he was feeling on his face. Lieutenant Hawkeye stood next to him, and her face was professional and even more unreadable.

Finally Mustang said, "I, too, wondered why so many resources had been expended stabilizing Ishval. But I never imagined the reason was something like _this_. To think we did more than exterminate a racial minority."

So that much of what McDougal had claimed was true beyond doubt. The Ishvalan Civil War _had_ been won by massacring the Ishvalan race.

And Mustang and Hawkeye _had_ participated in the genocide.

As opposed to growing, Ed's discomfort lessened extremely slightly, but he wasn't surprised. It was easier for him to deal with something when he knew the truth.

"To think we were helping our government exterminate the entire populace of the country," Mustang continued.

"So you believe McDougal is telling the truth?" Al queried.

"There's little doubt of it," the Colonel replied, and Ed bit down on his tongue hard to keep reality from vanishing or becoming unstable, reached up to Al's right shoulder, the one closest to him this time, and rubbed it. Edward tried to keep from shaking this time, and was partially successful, and Al put the right arm he was also clearly trying to keep from shaking around his brother's back. "Freezer was one of the most principled soldiers in the military. It's possible Ishval could have changed him before he resigned, but if he was going to lie to a State Alchemist to trick him or her into helping him succeed in a revolution, he would have done that in the first place."

That was true. His mind searched for a counterargument, but Ed knew he was in denial. He let almost all his remaining hope McDougal had been lying die away.

After numerous seconds, his shakes stopped, and several seconds later, Al's did too. Ed took a deep, shaking, shuddering breath, then dropped his hand from his brother's shoulder and walked out of Al's arm.

"Then are you going to help us stop them?" Al asked. "And avoid murdering anyone in the process?"

Mustang glared, and there was something else in his expression Edward couldn't identify. "Do you honestly believe I'd let the Fϋhrer destroy the nation I'm serving? Of course I'll topple Bradley and High Command.

"Nor am I going to take a course of action that might get the soldiers I serve with killed if I can avoid it. If I don't have any other choice, I'll take that road, but so long as I have other options, I'm not going to harm them."

Edward knew this was the best he could hope for, and sagged.

"But I'm ordering you two to leave this to me." Edward stiffened. "This mess is far too big for children to clean up. Give me your list of researchers, and then end your disloyalty to the military for the most part and search for another way to regain your bodies using military resources. Don't go near Liore, or Laboratory Five, or anywhere that might be connected to the government's scheme. Don't participate in any assignments you believe are advancing Bradley's plot, but otherwise be as loyal as you used to be. I'll unseat the Fϋhrer and High Command myself."

Ed glared himself. "Forget it."

"You'd defy a direct order from a superior officer?" Mustang questioned warningly.

"We're discussing an illegal operation taking place outside of the military's chain of command," Ed rejoined. "You have no authority over me when it comes to this."

The Colonel sighed heavily. "True." Concern showed briefly on his face, and Edward scowled. Mustang was one of the last people he wanted concerned for him. "Then take this as the advice of an adult far more familiar with the ways of the world than a child. You have no idea what you're getting into, or how to play a high-stakes game of intrigue. If you stick your head into this, it will be devoured. You're inexperienced, and your modus operandi makes you ill equipped to play this game as well. You're rash, reckless, impulsive, and bullheaded." Ed suppressed a rush of anger, surprised the Colonel could get to him at this time. "The leaders of this country have been hiding their schemes from the people since they founded it and are far better at using their brains than you are. They'll lure you into a trap and you and your brother will die. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not," Ed responded, trying to keep his voice composed. "But I'm an alchemist." He'd thought he'd learned the night of their failed human transmutation how intertwined practicing alchemy and responsibility were, but he now knew he had merely begun to understand. Only now was he truly aware how inextricably responsibility and alchemy were connected.

How ironic he'd learn that by discovering alchemy wasn't the panacea he'd believed it was most of his life.

"Alchemists are supposed to use their arts for the people for a reason; alchemy can be used for the betterment of others in ways…" He trailed off. Before tonight, he would have said "other arts can't do more than dream of," but alchemy had betrayed him now in one of the worst possible ways "…Nothing else can, so it needs to be. That means _I_ need to. If I walked away from this and just continued to search for a way to get our bodies back, I'd be betraying my responsibilities in one of the worst ways. I have to involve myself in this. You have to understand that. You talked about serving your nation. It's my responsibility to serve other people."

Mustang's face became a mask for several seconds, and then he spoke, "True. I do understand."

Ed forced himself to grin slightly, and tried to savor his rare victory over the Colonel.

"But for once in your life," Mustang went on, "Please, listen to me. If you're going to work with me to overthrow puppeteers, you've got to stop approaching difficulties rashly. If you're rash, or reckless, in how you try to topple the government, you'll be a liability to us, and you'll get yourself and your brother killed. I know you see my point. You're a child prodigy. You became a State Alchemist at age twelve. You're a genius. You have a brain in there, so please, for once, use it for something other than studying alchemy. Do you honestly believe you can outwit people who have been stringing along a whole nation for over three hundred fifty years with the way you approach hardship?"

Edward had intended to remind Mustang of all the proof the Colonel had Ed did use his brain for things other than alchemy, and he wasn't as rash as Mustang was accusing him of being. But at Mustang's question, doubt rose. Edward didn't want to admit it, but that was a very good query. He wasn't as reckless as people often accused him of being, and he knew that, but he also knew he _was_ reckless. It hadn't gotten him in the trouble people kept saying it was going to get him into, so he'd seen no reason to change it, but he knew he _was_ reckless.

Did he believe he could outmaneuver puppeteers who had been deceiving millions of people for centuries if he kept being rash?

He was aware of the answer to that.

But his ego didn't like acknowledging Mustang was right. So he said, "Sorry, but I have no intention of turning into your tame hound. I won't run out until you're done saying everything you have to talk about again, but I won't guarantee I'll do things your way."

Mustang opened his lips over part of one side of his mouth and blew air out through the opening, but he appeared to be aware that was the best he was going to get from Edward, for the Colonel nodded.

"I'll have to be satisfied with that," Mustang spoke.

"Good," Ed replied.

He sighed. He didn't want to continue after what had just passed between them, but he knew he had to. He opened his mouth–

"What do you think Brother and I should do first?" Al queried.

Ed gave his brother a grateful smile.

"First," Mustang spoke back, "I'll tell the soldiers outside you two got into another fight with Freezer and he escaped using transmutations that are best kept secret. Then we wait for the search for Freezer to die down, freeing you two to move around more freely."

"We don't need to be able to move around more freely to sneak into Laboratory Five," Edward argued. "While we're waiting, Al and I will check the place out."

"That's a bad idea," Hawkeye put in. "If anyone sees you there that soon after you were assigned to deal with McDougal, the Fϋhrer will know the Freezer told you about him. Leave Laboratory Five to us. You should go to Liore as you were originally deployed to. You purchased train tickets for Liore before the Colonel assigned you to defeat the Freezer, and that purchase will be on your official State Alchemist account records, so if you do anything suspicious there, the government will have little reason to believe you're onto them and will probably think you're poking your noses into trouble like you usually do. The Lieutenant and I will bring Maes Hughes in on this," Edward experienced more discomfort, "And, among other things, ask him to investigate Laboratory Five."

Ed suppressed the urge to ask if Hughes could be trusted. Mustang and Hawkeye were no one's fools. They wouldn't have talked about involving him if they weren't certain it was safe.

"I'm fairly sure I know what Bradley's plans for Liore are," Mustang said. "The priest we've heard rumors about who can supposedly work miracles has likely been ordered or tricked into turning his believers into an army that will launch a revolt disguised as a holy war, giving the military cause to brutally suppress it. As the Lieutenant spoke of, you'll be more free to act in Liore. So once you're in Liore, I want you to find out whether the priest is an innocent dupe, an ambitious dupe intentionally misleading his followers, or is in on the plot. If he's an innocent pawn, I want you to warn him he's being used and convince him to stop spreading his religion."

The concept of revealing to others their essential beliefs were lies caused Ed's stomach to heave violently now that he knew what it was like for the essential things he trusted in to betray him, and this would be _far_ worse. Alchemy had betrayed Ed, but he still knew beyond doubt its laws were the Truth. The essential things he trusted in had been proven to be illusions, but his core beliefs hadn't. The foundation of his life was no deception. This would be revealing to people the very basis of their lives were lies. He felt even sicker because he could now see what those lives were in everything that meant.

But there was no other choice he could make. He had to do it, whether it sickened him this badly or not.

More irony. If his trip to Liore hadn't been delayed and he'd encountered evidence the priest was a fraud and might genuinely have the Stone without knowing it was almost certain the Stone was real, he would have _wanted_ to expose the priest if he had to to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, and wouldn't have cared as much about what he'd do to the townsfolk in the process. He'd have cared, but less, and he wouldn't have been as aware of who the people were he was hurting.

Now that he knew the Stone _was_ real, exposing the priest and hurting the townsfolk was one of the last things he wanted to do. Yet another way his life had been turned upside down.

"If he's an ambitious pawn or in on the plot," the Flame Alchemist was going on, "I want him pulled from his pulpit, but make sure you don't give him reason to believe you're aware he's anything more than a regular criminal. Whatever his culpability, I want that priest exposed.

"Don't search for the underground circle while you're in Liore, however, or wreck the portion of it there if any of it is there. We don't know if it exists there yet, so there may be no point, and even if it does, I'm sure the Fϋhrer checks on its state regularly. If you damage it, that may alert the government what we're up to. Just expose the priest. Once he's exposed, report it in to Eastern Command.

"By then I should have returned to the Eastern Command Center. I'll dispatch troops from Eastern Command as soon as the priest is exposed to tell the citizens of Liore the priest was an alchemist who performed experiments that released dangerous toxins into the air, and to relocate the people to other locations in Amestris." Ed clenched his teeth. He didn't like the concept of saving people by lying to them, especially when they were victims of a deception, but here, too, there was no choice. "Then the troops will burn the town to the ground to discourage anyone from returning there or moving in. That won't prevent the location from becoming a bloodbath, but that will delay the bloodshed."

Edward was green, but even he could see that move would tip Bradley off if the Colonel didn't have a means of preventing it.

"Very well." Then Edward asked, "What's your plan for keeping that from alerting the Fϋhrer we're onto him?"

"When I receive word the Eastern soldiers have removed the people of Liore from the town," the Flame Alchemist answered, "I'll phone the Fϋhrer's office and request to speak with him. When I do, I'll inform him the Freezing Alchemist infiltrated Central to lure State Alchemists to hunt for him so he could meet with me, because I'm known as the Hero of Ishval." Edward suppressed the urge to cringe at hearing that. "The Ishvalan Civil War started when an Amestrian soldier accidentally shot an Ishvalan child, a shooting I now assume was purposeful. So I'll tell Bradley your meeting with me now was for the purpose of telling me where to find Freezer, and I'll tell Bradley Freezer informed us he'd resigned because he'd discovered evidence a traitor in High Command had ordered the child shot and the war started, probably so Aerugo, who the military knows supplied the Ishvalans with armaments during the war, could weaken Amestris by forcing it to fight a civil war. I'll say Freezer has spent the years since then working to identify who the traitor is. I'll say Freezer didn't think Bradley would believe him, hence why he lured us out. Freezer, I'll tell him, hasn't yet identified the traitor, but he had reason to believe the traitor was up to his old tricks in Liore, so he wanted to warn me to prevent another civil war.

"I'll apologize to the Fϋhrer for acting on my own initiative and not warning him sooner, and say I was afraid he would order me not to do anything about Liore if I'd warned him beforehand, so I'd waited until after I'd removed Liore from Amestris to ensure a civil war wouldn't break out to talk to him. I'll tell the Fϋhrer I'll turn myself in to the court martial office if he considers me guilty of treason, and I'll also say Freezer told me he was given an alchemic catalyst the military believed was the Philosopher's Stone during the war, but he doubts it's what the military thinks it is and believes the traitor in High Command fed the military false information on how to create it so they'd fashion a weapon that might escalate the war. I'll say Freezer told me this supposed Stone was transmuted in the allegedly abandoned Laboratory Five, and evidence of the General's treason might exist there.

"The combination of this story; my willingness to be put on trial; and me bringing up Laboratory Five, when if I knew the truth about it I wouldn't want to alert the Fϋhrer I was aware something shady might be going on at it; may give the Fϋhrer reason to believe it's possible we have no idea what's actually going on. He won't be sure, and he'll no doubt watch us closely from then on and destroy all evidence of his illegal operations save for the evidence it's absolutely necessary he retain, making it much harder for us to find evidence. But he may believe there's a large enough possibility I'm not a threat to him he won't try to arrest or assassinate State Alchemists as useful as myself and a child prodigy who can transmute without a circle. It's not a surefire way to ensure we won't need to run, and it will make things far more difficult for us, but it has a chance of keeping us from becoming fugitives, and we have to get everyone in Liore out of it and keep people away from the city. We have to prevent as many other Ishvals from occurring as we can."

"Indeed," Ed responded. "If Laboratory Five is levelled, maybe Hughes will have uncovered something there before it is."

"What about Fort Briggs?" Al asked.

"I'll bring Major Armstrong in on this too," the Colonel responded, and Edward felt further discomfort and suppressed the urge to ask if he could be trusted for the same reason he'd suppressed the urge to ask if Hughes could be. "His older sister is a Major General, and she's in charge of Fort Briggs. He'll be able to alert her through his family connections. Once he does, I'll leave keeping Fort Briggs from becoming a bloodbath up to her. She may be able to stop it from happening herself if she has forewarning. She's one of, if not the, most gifted military officer in Amestris."

"We have to leave it at this for now," the Lieutenant said. "We can't plan out what we'll do after we've delayed Liore's sacrifice until we see how the Fϋhrer responds."

Edward nodded, and uncertainty swirled within him, joining the terror and everything else he was experiencing. This was it, then. They were about to embark on a trail of treason against the nation he lived in. He and Al were about to dive into an ocean vaster and deeper than anything he'd believed he'd swim in during his life, an ocean they could drown in as surely as their search for a way to regain their bodies could drown them, and without them making the tiniest wave in it.

Additionally, by doing so, they would further decrease their chances of regaining their bodies, because they were risking being forced to become fugitives and losing access to the military's alchemic research.

Could Ed truly endanger his brother's salvation, especially when successfully saving his brother might be far more unlikely now than it had looked since Edward had left Resembool to save Al? Could Ed truly dive into an ocean this deep and vast? An ocean they might not be able to create a single wave in of any size?

He looked at Al, and even though his brother didn't have a human body, the way he was standing showed how uncertain he was, too.

But once again, just as becoming a Dog of the Military had been the only road Ed could have taken before, throwing away that life was the only trail he could take now. He didn't want to risk their chances of regaining their bodies, and this was far too big for him or Al, but Edward couldn't continue to serve a military that existed to sacrifice the people it was supposed to be protecting. Nor could he turn his back on this because of how big it was, or how large the possibility was they wouldn't be able to do anything about something of this scale. If he continued to serve the military, or turned away from this, he'd be so irresponsible no speech could qualify it.

As if reading his mind, the Colonel queried, voice unreadable and face a mask again, "Are you sure you want to do this, you two? You've spent all these years striving for your brother and yourself. There's no reason for you to stop now. The Lieutenant and I can save Amestris without you two. You don't belong in a world of blood and death, and you belong in one this horrible much less. Keep pursuing your dreams, and don't take on any hardships in addition to the ones already weighing you down, especially not ones this heavy."

"I'm not going to stop chasing my dreams," Ed replied. "But life is hardship. That's what Equivalent Exchange is. I can't restrict myself to just taking on the hardships Al or I will get something out of overcoming, or the ones that aren't too heavy. That would be callous. I'm sure I _don't_ want to do this, but it's clear I have to. I can't ask other people to take on hardships I should carry in their place.

"I'm in this, and you're not going to convince me to walk out."

"I feel more or less how Brother does," Al spoke.

"I see," Mustang responded, voice and face still indecipherable. "Then let's get moving."

Ed took a deep, shuddering breath. He reached into his pocket, took out the list of researchers the Celestial Catalyst Alchemist had worked with, and handed the paper to Mustang.

Then Ed turned and walked out of the storage room, Al following.

.

"To make life you have to take life. Come on, this is basic alchemy here!"-Envy

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: Episode 22:

CREATED HUMAN


	2. The Puppet Priest

.

 **CHAPTER 2:**

 **THE PUPPET PRIEST**

.

Major Armstrong stood across from the desk in the office Roy had been loaned for the duration of Roy's stay in Central with wide, stunned eyes, shaking violently.

"I can't believe this," Major Armstrong said. "All I sought to do by enlisting in the military was to protect my fellow countrymen and countrywomen. Countless other soldiers have joined the military for the same reason. And you're telling me the Amestrian military was created to _murder_ our fellows!?"

Hughes, standing on the right side of the office, had a composed expression, but Roy knew him well enough he could see the dismay and horror in Hughes' body language.

The guilt, too. Hughes had swallowed it as he swallowed his guilt about what he'd done in Ishval, so he could laugh with Gracia and Elicia and kid around and smile at them and joke around with them, but Roy could tell it was every amount as present as the guilt Roy felt, and he knew Hawkeye and Armstrong felt, at the discovery they hadn't just massacred their people in Ishval but had been assisting in setting up the means for the Fϋhrer to exterminate _everyone_ inside Amestris.

As he often did, Roy found himself admiring how strong Hawkeye and Hughes were, and knowing he could never be as strong as they were. Roy had been able to tell Hawkeye had been carrying her guilt well since she'd heard Fullmetal's and Alphonse's revelations, and Hughes had swallowed his guilt again. Roy, on the other hand, knew his mask was more a façade than Hawkeye's and much more of one than Hughes', and internally Roy was much more ravaged, among other things.

"Likely, yes," Roy responded from where he sat in his chair behind his desk. "Unless one or both of you can see a reason for Freezer to have lied about this the Lieutenant and I can't." He looked at Hughes.

"I wish I could," Hughes spoke, "But I can't. The Freezer appears to be legit to me."

Major Armstrong clenched a hand into a fist so tight his nails drew blood from that palm.

"If the two of you would rather resign than work with me," the Flame Alchemist said, "I won't try to convince you not to."

"Are you kidding me?" Hughes asked. "I told you, I learned we have to earn the ability to raise a family with our spouses, so I'll do anything it takes to be the person who can. Furthermore, I'm even more determined to do that now that I have a daughter in addition to a lover. Even if people transmuted into a Stone don't die, Gracia and I can't raise Elicia or watch her grow up if we're inside a Philosopher's Stone, and I can't shield Gracia or be completed by her if we're inside one. So resigning is one of the last things I can do. If I did, I wouldn't be able to shield Elicia and Gracia, raise Elicia, make Gracia happy, or live a fulfilling life with them.

"Besides, this is the chance we've been waiting for. If I leave the military, I won't get to see the nation you create."

If Major Armstrong was surprised to have his beliefs Roy sought to become Fϋhrer confirmed, he didn't say anything about it. Rather, Armstrong said, "I have to be a part of this. You almost certainly were aware of this from the beginning, but when I disobeyed my orders in Ishval and was recalled to Central, I disobeyed them hoping I would be recalled. I sought to desert without becoming a deserter in name. The military's methods were atrocious, and I couldn't continue to support them."

He looked down at his hands. "But we all know I did the wrong thing, and I've known it since I fled. I've been ashamed of my cowardice every day since then. I should have stayed true to my beliefs, opposed the military, and tried my best to protect the Ishvalans and our soldiers, from each other and themselves. If I must face the military again, this time I have to fight them. I have to redeem myself for murdering all the Ishvalans and soldiers I killed, both the ones I actively slaughtered and the ones I abandoned."

Roy sighed heavily. He'd believed he'd receive the kind of answer he'd gotten from Hughes, and Roy had feared and hoped he'd get the answer he'd gotten from Major Armstrong.

He knew it was idiotic to want it, because that would mean wanting the people the Flame Alchemist was working with to take without giving anything back, but just once, he wished his friends and companions would sit back and let him protect them.

But that would probably never happen, and he'd be upset if it did.

"Are we bringing in the rest of the team?" Hawkeye, standing to his left, questioned.

"Not unless we need them," Roy replied. "I want to risk as few lives and careers as possible setting up and executing this coup." He turned his head to include all three of them, and assumed a tone of command. "While I'm on that topic, fight with me if you want to, but if it comes down to letting me take the fall so you can survive yourself, I want you to make it look like I'm the only one guilty and the three of you had no knowledge of why I was ordering you to do what you were doing." He ignored what Fullmetal had said about having no authority in this. If Hawkeye, Hughes, or Armstrong didn't bring it up, he wasn't going to abide by it. "That's a direct order. Is that clear?"

"Roy?" Hughes asked.

"Don't tell me to shut up, Hughes," Roy responded. "I'm not budging on this."

"Nor are we," Hughes said back, and looked at Hawkeye, who nodded. Major Armstrong crossed his arms.

"If we all live through this and you don't do as I command," Roy warned them, and he was serious, "I'll court-martial all three of you once I'm Fϋhrer."

"That would be an abuse of power," the Lieutenant rejoined. "I'd have to shoot you in the back."

"I wouldn't be abusing my power if I dishonorably discharged you for disobeying a superior officer," the Flame Alchemist replied.

"You would if you repay our loyalty by punishing us," Hughes returned.

That was true. Roy sighed heavily again, but smiled. "I'm a childish dreamer, not a tough, down-in-the-dirt soldier willing to do whatever it takes to lead his or her troops to victory. How did _I_ inspire such loyalty?"

"It's because you're a dreamer," Hawkeye answered, "And not an amoral pragmatist."

A dreamer whose naïve dreams of bettering Amestris by enlisting had turned him into a mass murderer and led him to help the Fϋhrer erase it from the world. He lowered his eyes, unable to look at her or Hughes.

Hughes coughed, and Roy looked up at him.

"I'll get to work trying to find Doctor Marcoh," Hughes spoke, "And investigating the files the court martial office has, on the researchers who worked for him, and on Laboratory Five. I'll snoop around the outside of Laboratory Five, too, and see if there's anything to find without going inside. Furthermore, I'll look through all the information we have on Ishvalan refugees to try to discover if the Ishvalan alchemist McDougal talked about is still alive, and if the Ishvalan is, where he might be now. Believe it or not, I actually might have a lead on this one," Roy's eyebrow rose, "And I'll look into that in addition. Those are the reasons you recruited me into your revolutionary cabal, right?"

"That's correct," Roy responded.

"What about me?" Major Armstrong asked. "Why do you want–

"Oh. Okay. I'll dispatch one of my family's servants north with a warning for my sister. I should inform you, though, Olivier has despised me, if not hated me, since I deserted at Ishval. I'll send a servant Olivier knows I wouldn't be dispatching if the situation weren't dire, so she'll almost certainly read my letter, but I can't say whether she'll believe me."

"That will be a start," Roy replied.

"I can also assist you in locating Doctor Marcoh," Armstrong told him. "I've met him, and I can give you a picture of his appearance."

"Good to hear." Roy looked back at Hughes. "What's your possible lead on the Ishvalan?"

"Have you heard anything about a serial killer who has been murdering State Alchemists throughout the nation?" Hughes questioned.

Roy's eyes widened. "I haven't heard a word. You believe this murderer could be an Ishvalan?"

"The possibility didn't occur to me until you told us an alchemist from Ishval exists," Hughes responded, "But now I do. All we know about the killer is he's male, desert-skinned, has a large scar on his forehead, and his victims usually die from inexplicable head wounds. We call him 'Scar' because of the scar. But we don't know Scar's motives, what any of his methods or weapons are, or anything else about him. If Scar is an Ishvalan alchemist slaughtering with transmutations, though, that would explain why he's targeting State Alchemists, why we can't identify how he kills his victims, and it fits in with his desert skin. He may not be the alchemist who saved McDougal – we know the alchemist who saved McDougal had more reason than most Ishvalans to oppose the military, but we also know it may not make sense an Ishvalan alchemist would save a State Alchemist near the end of the war if he intended to kill them as part of the Ishvalan's means of fighting us after the war was over – but considering how the Ishvalan religion sees alchemy, there may very well be a connection between them."

The Flame Alchemist thought about a few ideas for luring Scar into targeting him and setting a trap for the male, but none of them appeared feasible, so he put the concept off for later.

What Roy was thinking must have showed on his face, for Hughes sighed and Hawkeye gave Roy an almost imperceptible nod, a pledge to back him up if he used himself as bait.

"It also looks to me like we need to uncover," Hughes spoke, knowing there was no reason to talk any further about the Ishvalan, "Or figure out, what the Fϋhrer wants this special Stone for. If the myths about the Philosopher's Stone are true, what transmutations could a much larger, special Stone allow a regular Stone can't enable?"

"Perhaps," Lieutenant Hawkeye offered, "If the myths are true, the myths aren't fully accurate. Perhaps a regular Stone is capable of nothing more than allowing an alchemist to break the Law of Equivalent Exchange, or to heal severe injuries, or both. Perhaps, if immortality can be accomplished, an alchemist requires a vastly larger Stone to transmute an immortal body, and that's what the Fϋhrer and High Command want a special Stone for."

Before the night preceding this day, Roy would have dismissed the concept immortality could be achieved as ludicrous. But before the night preceding this day, Roy would have dismissed the concept the government had founded Amestris and deceived its people for centuries for the purpose of transmuting a mythological alchemic catalyst as absurd.

"That might be it," Roy said.

He hoped it was, because they were all aware of the same thing.

They'd try, but none of them had the slightest idea where to begin to investigate what even the Philosopher's Stone in its successful form couldn't realize.

.

 _Ed walked up the path to the opening between the stone wall to the left of the path, relative to the direction he was facing, and the stone wall to the right of the opening into the Rockbells' front yard, a smile on his face as he looked at the blonde-haired, flesh and blood shape of his brother to his right. Edward's flesh right hand was intertwined with Al's flesh left hand, and Edward was savoring the warmth and feel of his brother's hand, and all the creases in it and rough calluses on it, as well as the feel of Ed's left leg's movements._

 _He still couldn't believe it was his brother's warmth he was feeling in and around his right hand, his brother's rough calluses, the creases in his brother's hand. Edward could feel them as distinctly as he could feel anything else around him, but he couldn't believe they belonged to Al, even days after they'd regained their bodies. But the smile on Al's face as he kept his eyes closed, immersing himself in the feel of the breeze blowing his hair, left no doubt this was real._

 _Granny was waiting for them with a smile of her own on her face. "Welcome back, Ed, Al!" she cried. "I see you've finally done it! Congratulations! Let's not spend too much time talking and preventing Winry from finding out. She's right this way."_

 _Edward grinned. He'd been eagerly looking forward to her reaction to finding out they had their bodies back._

 _Granny led them inside, through the sitting room, up the stairs, and to the door to Winry's room. She opened it and gestured for the two of them to enter._

 _Ed walked inside, everything around him and inside him, every last drop of his blood, turned to freezing ice so cold it burned._

 _Before him, resting on the floor of Winry's room and taking up most of the empty space of her bedroom from floor to ceiling, lay an enormous partially translucent red globe._

 _He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't process thought. All Edward genuinely knew was horror nothing in his life but what he'd felt the night of the failed human transmutation had transcended._

 _"Ed," Winry's disembodied voice sounded from the sphere, filled with unimaginable bitterness and agony and hatred. "Al. This figures. Everyone else in the nation loses their bodies and dies and becomes part of this_ thing _," Edward saw blue light crackling and his ability to move returned to him with a violent jolt, and he spun to see Granny's body fall into pieces and disappear in blue currents, "But you get your bodies back. You let me die and condemned me to a form that can't even see or hear, never mind feel, but you regained your body. It's so revolting I wish I could retch on you until you suffocated in my throw up. I thought it wasn't possible for me to hate you any more after you sentenced me to this form, but I was wrong."_

 _Every word was all-consuming agony, tearing away more of Edward as he looked at the Philosopher's Stone, but when his knees gave out and he fell, something violently seized his right arm and left leg and then they were automail again and the things holding them were Alphonse's armor hands and Al was armor again and ripped them off and let Ed fall onto his back. Al crushed the automail, then kicked Edward as hard as he could over and over at differing locations all over his body._

 _"How could you do this to her!?" Al screamed. "I hate you! I've hated you every second since you irrevocably destroyed my body! My dearest wish since then, until I learned what the Philosopher's Stone was, has been for you to lose your body and be trapped in a suit of armor too!" The pain of each kick wiped out most of the awareness Ed still had, but it was so infinitesimal it was almost nonexistent compared to the anguish surmounting thought inside him that grew with each word Al uttered, shattering more and more of Ed's whole existence into bits. "Then it was for you to be imprisoned in a Philosopher's Stone! I've hated you so much I know for certain I'd have thrown up every day I was around you if I had a body, so much I've been certain I'd retch anyway every time I called you 'Brother!' But condemning me to this body wasn't enough for you!? You had to murder Winry and take away her body and everyone else's as well!? I hate you even more now!"_

 _And then_ she _spoke._

 _Ed didn't know how he could see her through the all-consuming physical and emotional agony, but there she was, lying to the side of the Stone in a pool of spreading blood, more indefinably horrible than an infinite nightmare, darker than the most pitch black night endlessly beyond the void, violently retching blood._

 _"Why can't you fix any of us, Ed?" the thing that should have been their Mom asked from an upside down head. "I loved you and raised you and_ this _is how you repay me? Al loved you and trusted you to take care of him and_ this _is what you do to him? Winry loves you and gave you automail and supported you through your surgery and rehabilitation and_ this _is how you repay her? Pinako loves you and raised you after I died the first time and_ this _is how you repay her?"_

Edward saw a wooden bench across from him, moving in time with his surroundings, and heard sounds. After an unknown period of time passed he became aware he was sitting in a train seat, Al sitting to his right and looking at him, the countryside rolling by beyond the train window in the pre-dawn light.

Al sighed and looked away, and Edward's heart ached at how helpless he knew his brother was feeling. But Ed didn't know if there was anything he could say, so he quietly looked out the window and watched the countryside pass.

Edward's sleep, when he could sleep in the first place, had been consumed with nightmares the word didn't touch every night since the Freezer had revealed what the Fϋhrer was doing. They were usually similar to the one he'd just had. He and Al would return to the Rockbell house, at times with one or both of his and Al's bodies restored, at times not, and be shown to Winry's room by Granny or Teacher or Sig or Mustang or Hawkeye or a combination of the five to see an enormous red globe on the floor of her room, a globe from which, in most of the nightmares of this type, Winry's voice would cry or otherwise speak in unimaginable anguish and beg Ed desperately to return her to life or to give her back a body, many times both, or tell him she hated him for sentencing her to become part of a Stone, or something similar. In most of the nightmares that weren't nightmares of this kind the body of whoever or whomever had shown Ed and Al to her room would be deconstructed around this time too. In a sizable minority of these nightmares, Ed would succeed at transmuting Winry's soul out of the Stone into a suit of armor, and then she'd scream at him she hated him for failing to save her and letting her die and condemning her to an unfeeling body and use her wrench to scrape her blood seal away, and the armor would collapse lifelessly in coursing blue. In almost all these nightmares defying the name, regardless of whether Al had an armor body or a human body, regardless of whether Winry cried or spoke a word, Al would turn and verbally and physically assault Ed, kicking him or punching him or attacking him another way or with a combination of methods and screaming at Edward he hated him even more now for murdering or permanently taking away Winry's and everyone else's bodies too and he'd hated Ed every second since Ed had taken away Alphonse's body. And in the worst of the nightmares surmounting expression of this type, as Al assaulted Edward mercilessly and screamed at him the thing that should have been their Mom would be lying by the Stone in a pool of spreading blood, violently retching blood and talking to Ed. At first Al had woken Edward when he'd shown evidence Ed was having a nightmare, but eventually Alphonse had stopped, the two of them having realized the only times Ed _could_ sleep was when he was having nightmares.

Edward knew he was worrying Al sick at a time when his brother didn't need to be worried for Ed incomparably more than usual, but he extremely highly doubted his nightmares would stop if he found out Alphonse didn't hate him, and without the knowledge he could end Al's worries, after the past four nights, Edward was measurelessly more inexpressibly terrified of asking the question now.

 _Is there a point asking? Deep down, you know the answer. He hates you. How could he_ not _hate you? Need I remind you of everything you've done to him_ again _?_

 _And now there's a very good chance you can't save him from it and heal him. Al's kind, but_ anyone _would find it impossible not to hate you under these circumstances._

It was harder than usual to push away those thoughts.

But Ed didn't try to focus on the countryside to rid himself of them. He knew he wouldn't be able to remain more than barely aware of it for long. Even how different it now appeared couldn't keep him fully aware of it for more than short periods of time.

Because it was by far not the only thing that appeared different.

 _Everything_ was different now.

When, seven days ago, they'd purchased train tickets for Liore, he hadn't believed Colonel Mustang would summon them to his office in East City and order them to postpone their current assignment and accompany him to Central to bring down a fugitive. But that hadn't been anything unusual. When they'd arrived in Central a day later, Edward had run out of the Colonel's briefing about the fugitive before Mustang had finished, ignoring Alphonse's requests to stop, assuming this would be a run-of-the-mill mission and impatient to get it out of the way as fast as possible so they could be on their way chasing their best lead yet to the Philosopher's Stone with as little delay as possible.

He could never have imagined how drastically the 'run-of-the-mill mission' would turn his entire reality on its head again.

The priest who could supposedly work miracles probably _was_ using a Philosopher's Stone to enact them, though whether it was an imperfect catalyst or the real thing remained to be found out.

Even if he wasn't, there were countless Philosopher's Stones underground below their feet.

But none of that might do them one bit of good.

As well, even if they could use the Stone, Ed didn't know how much it mattered when Winry and millions of other people might lose their bodies in a far worse way than Al had, and if they did, it might be even less likely those millions could be restored than Al could. Could even a Philosopher's Stone take apart another Philosopher's Stone?

It hurt so much Edward extremely highly doubted he could answer that question even if he tried any more than he could answer whether they could use the Stone, though, and it hurt too much to try. He was disgusted with himself he was doing such a lousy job of carrying this pain after this many days. He needed to be strong and tough in order to walk on his legs, and carrying his torment better than this was an essential part of that. But he wasn't willing to. Pain couldn't knock him off his legs, and it hurt so much.

He was so terrified, and worse.

Of what would happen to Al and Winry and Granny and the other people Ed cared about if he couldn't prevent the Fϋhrer from succeeding, of losing Al and Winry and Granny and the others he cared about too, of what might happen to Al even if they did, of this hideous reality, of the ability of the flow of matter and the alchemy he had faith in to fashion these atrocities, of the depravity humans could sink to, of everything.

But the knowledge Al needed him gave Ed the strength to stay on his legs. Further, he'd been dealing with torment about Al for years now, and lack of sleep and nightmares that were worse than nightmares. With the awareness Al needed him giving Edward strength, the familiarity made walking on his legs even easier.

Torture and terror and everything else about Winry were different matters. It was something new, and the urge to call Winry so Edward could hear her voice, alive and vibrant and human and without an echo and there, was almost a physical thing by now. He _would_ have done it by this point if he hadn't been scared he'd worry her by calling her for apparently no reason.

But Al needed him, so he was on his legs.

Something appeared over the horizon, and it took several seconds for its presence to break through Ed's thoughts and for his mind to register it was there and a steeple.

Edward turned to his brother, sitting on the train seat to his right.

"We're almost there," Edward said.

"I know," Al responded, voice quieter than usual, as it had been most of the time for the past days.

There was no need for Edward to lower his voice to a whisper. They'd chosen an empty train car, and Al had been staying alert for anyone's entry.

"It'll work out," Ed spoke, knowing the words wouldn't do any good but needing to say something. "It's truly possible to create a legend such as the Philosopher's Stone, so we can oust a corrupt government."

"Can you really believe we can stop them?" Alphonse asked. "This involves all of Amestris, and we're just children. How I'm reacting to what McDougal revealed proves that even more."

Ed didn't know if he was willing to admit to himself he didn't know if he could believe they could, so he queried, "How so?"

"Death is a part of the flow of matter in the universe," Alphonse replied, "And so we need to accept death. We need to accept the circulation of the One and the All as well. Teacher put a lot of effort into beating that into us, and we paid a terrible price for not learning that lesson. Yet in spite of all her words and all we've suffered because of our arrogance, I haven't grown the littlest amount. I've been trying over the past days, but no matter how hard I attempt to I can't accept the concept of death as horrid as what the Fϋhrer has planned, or it can be part of the cycle of nature. I can look at the Truth, but I can't accept it. The transmutation is possible, so that irrefutably proves it's part of the flow of reality, but even though that's utterly unarguable I can't accept that kind of death. I know death isn't a question of numbers, but millions upon millions… everyone in a _nation_ … It's too severe an atrocity. Because of that, I can't accept death of this caliber is part of the cycle of existence, too. I'm still too immature to accept reality for what it is.

"I've known I haven't matured at all for a long time. My desire to be human once more is just as much a denial of the Truth. But I didn't think I was _this_ infantile."

Edward's insides twisted violently, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his face twisting in anguish limits couldn't encompass. Another thing tormenting his brother the elder Elric couldn't take away from Al. Another thing torturing Al about which Ed didn't know if there was anything that _could_ be said. He knew all too well what Al was feeling, and due to Edward's inability to comfort his own tumult, he wasn't sure there _was_ support for this.

But he couldn't just stay silent.

He opened his eyes and raised his hand to the top of Al's head, rubbing it. "I feel similar in many ways. I can't accept it myself. _This_ is the Truth?" He'd address Al's perspective he hadn't grown because he wanted a regular body another time. "Innumerable people can be wiped from reality and turned into fuel through _grade school_ alchemy, and something fully within nature's rules, rather than something pushing the boundaries of those laws? We're supposed to accept that and live with this as 'the way the world works?' We're supposed to accept something this gruesome as no more than a natural process? I can't begin to.

"Even after what McDougal spoke happened at Ishval, I still can't fully believe any alchemist, never mind common alchemists, would be willing to toy with _one_ life. I can barely believe an alchemist has the capacity to toy with millions of lives. I'm fighting incredibly hard to accept the worst of what the military did in Ishval. I'm no better than you.

"I extremely highly doubt that's reassuring, but I understand how you feel." Edward smiled sadly.

"It helps to know you understand," Al responded, and Ed's chest loosened the slightest amount. Ed knew Al meant it. His brother wouldn't lie about something like that to comfort Edward.

"But if we can't move forward and accept the flow of nature," Al questioned, "Or the Truth of reality, even after everything, how can we defeat them and save each other and Winry and Granny? We're stuck-up brats." Ed cringed, but there was no way for him to argue Al was wrong about himself. "This is something so distant from a child's fantasy of grandeur not much can be farther. What can arrogant fools like us achieve striving against hardship this severe?"

Edward ignored his doubts.

"We're not so foolish we don't make an honest effort now," Edward responded. "As long as we abide by Equivalent Exchange, and nature's cycle, and genuinely give, it doesn't matter if we accept the flow. We can still succeed. We're not endeavoring to perform forbidden alchemy. We're attempting to _stop_ people from performing forbidden alchemy. We have a meaningful chance."

Al didn't reply for several seconds, and then spoke, "I want to hope and believe you're right. But I don't know if I can. I believed and hoped I'd be able to get our bodies back for all these years, but now I know I was kidding myself." Ed's heart stopped, and he began shaking violently. "It doesn't matter if we can use the Stone or not, or if there's another way. The concept we can regain our bodies when Amestris is so deeply enmeshed in a web of death, and always has been, is a mad dream. You're never going to be totally flesh and blood again, and I'm never going to be able to sleep again, or cry again, or eat quiche again, or feel again, or be human again."

He was still having a nightmare. He had to be. The Philosopher's Stone was transmuted from human souls, and Amestris had been founded to construct a Philosopher's Stone, and there were thousands of regular Philosopher's Stones beneath them, and the military had committed genocide in Ishval, but it wasn't infinitely remotely possible he could be hearing those words from Al. Al was the _last_ one out of the two of them who would say that. Al was the optimist, the one who often raised Edward's spirits when he was becoming discouraged and convinced him to keep trying. Ed could believe Al was taking the Freezer's revelations harder than Edward was, and had had his optimism indescribably shaken, but it was a betrayal of everything good in existence _Al_ would be the first of them to lose all hope of them regaining their bodies.

Maybe Al didn't hate Ed, though why Alphonse wouldn't when he was certain his suffering was inescapable surpassed Edward's ability to comprehend, but Ed now hated _himself_ incomparably more than he had since Mustang had shown them it was possible they could fix their mistake. It was _Ed's_ fault Al had no hope now, every amount as much as it had been Ed's fault Al had had no hope before Mustang had given it to them.

For a moment, Ed was back in the wheelchair, hopeless himself for Al and himself.

But he forced himself not to lose awareness of where they were and what was going on. Ed couldn't afford to spend any time believing their dreams were hopeless when even Al had given in. Maybe it had all been for nothing, but they didn't know that for sure. It looked less likely he could give Al his body back now, but there still might be another shore on the other side of the river of mud. There was less hope now, perhaps far less hope, but things _weren't_ hopeless.

"You can't be sure of that, Al," Edward responded. "Please see that. If _I_ can see that, you know you can as well."

"I can," Alphonse replied. "But what are we doing, trusting in something that's no more than a possibility? We have no proof we can pull it off. All the evidence we have is against it."

"That's incorrect," Ed argued. "For the first time, we _do_ have evidence for it. The Philosopher's Stone can be transmuted. One impossibility has been proven to be attainable, so that means we can't trust anything else we thought can't be done genuinely can't be done."

Again, Al didn't talk back for several seconds. Then Al responded, "Point."

He sounded as if he was attempting to convince himself for his brother's sake, but he was trying to convince himself, and that was enough to cause all the strength to leave Ed's body. He would have fallen against the back of the train seat if he hadn't needed to keep rubbing Al's head.

Al's effort didn't cause Edward to hate himself any less, however. Al should never have lost hope, and Ed had no guarantee his brother was going to succeed in regaining it.

"Then I'll try to believe we can save each other, Winry, and a whole country, too," Al continued, still sounding as if he was attempting to convince himself for Ed's sake.

"But you should try to believe the argument you made yourself, Brother."

Ed hoped nothing was showing on his face at Al's revelation he'd seen through Edward's avoidance of Alphonse's earlier question, but Edward doubted it.

Ed didn't talk, though.

.

"Thanks," Ed said to the café owner with the black mustache and the circular brown hat, taking his glass of orange juice and his plate.

"You're welcome," the male spoke back.

Above them on an overhang, a radio was broadcasting the voice of a person Edward assumed was the priest pawn giving a sermon, but he didn't spend any time listening to it. He doubted the sermon itself would tell him anything helpful.

He hoped he looked as relaxed as he was trying to act. There was no way to know who in Liore could be trusted.

He asked, "Who's the voice on the radio?"

The owner blinked and looked surprised. "Why would people like you want to know about Father Cornello? You're street performers or something similar, right?"

Ed sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this. "Nothing of the sort," his words were as cordial as he cared to make them. "We're travelers touring the East seeing the sights and searching for interesting happenings going on. But if you're going to insult us, we'll give someone else here our patronage."

The owner appeared apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said. "Save for Father Cornello, we don't meet many unusual people. But he _is_ unusual. You've come to a good place to hear about interesting things. He's the true article when it comes to holy people; a messenger blessed by the Sun God he serves. Most priests or priestesses seeking to start new religions have no proof his or her God or Goddess or deities are real and work to win over the masses with teachings and faked miracles, but Father Cornello has demonstrated Leto is real so convincingly even the most skeptical person would have to admit a deity exists. Father Cornello performs _genuine_ miracles in public. Almost all of us have seen him do it."

Ed gave a skeptical expression. "Really? What kinds of things are these supposed 'miracles' that make you sure these ones aren't a magician's tricks too?"

A male with short unruly brown hair standing in the square walked over. "Among other things, he can cause statues to spring up from the ground and change their shape, create giant flowers out of regular-sized flowers in his bare hands, heal the injuries of animals in seconds just by touching the animals, turn wooden furniture into marble, produce feasts fit for nobles out of crumbs, and create water out of steel." Those sounded like things a Philosopher's Stone was capable of, and Edward violently shoved down another powerful surge of desire, disgusted with himself again. How could he still feel this way!? "We've never seen him enact other miracles he's told us he can perform, but because we've seen his miracles with our own eyes, we believe him when he says Leto bestows eternal life upon the souls of the faithful and Father Cornello himself can resurrect the dead."

That was one of the last things Ed needed to hear at a time like this. Al and he were in enough pain; they didn't need to deal with someone who thought he could bring the dead back to life, or was lying about being able to, now. Nor did they need to deal with the awareness of what they knew better than at any time before now the townsfolk of Liore were going to feel when their hopes their dead loved ones could be returned to them were wrecked.

He pushed away his memories, thoughts, and emotions as best he could and tried to keep all evidence of them from his body and face, but something of this must have shown, for the café owner questioned, "What's wrong?" Ed swore silently. "Did you lose someone important to you you want Father Cornello to return to you?"

"That's none of your business," Edward answered. "But I would like to learn more about this. When is Father Cornello scheduled to perform his next public miracles?"

"In around a half-hour," the figure with the unruly brown hair replied. "Do you want to see him do it?"

"That's our intention," Edward responded. "Let's go, Al. Be careful when you stand up. If you don't watch it you'll knock the radio off the overhang."

Al's head shifted as if he was regaining awareness of the reality around him, and Ed's insides twisted violently. "Right."

.

The supposed 'Father Cornello' was a large, bald person in a mostly black suit with a white scarf draped over his shoulders and falling to his waist, and he was smiling out at the large crowd of cheering citizens of Liore gathered in the square before the church.

But none of this prevented Ed, standing on a box at the back of the crowd, from seeing the partially translucent red marble on the ring on the purported priest's right hand. Edward's heart rate picked up, and he snarled. It didn't matter they might soon have an imperfect or successful Philosopher's Stone in their possession! What mattered was that it was composed of human souls, so they might not be able to use it! There was nothing to anticipate!

"Do you see it, Brother?" Al asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Ed responded in a whisper. "That leaves one question. Does Cornello know he's using alchemy and manipulating the citizens here, or does he believe he can perform miracles himself and resurrect dead people himself?"

Pink flowers were falling over the square and the front of the church where Cornello and the people working for him stood. Cornello caught one in his left hand, dropped it in his right, and raised his hands together with the flower within them. There was a burst of red light, and when it cleared the white stone statue behind Cornello Ed assumed to be of Leto was holding a large pink and yellow flower and a series of white protrusions extended from the flower to in front of Cornello, another large, but smaller, pink and yellow flower attached to the protrusions in front of the supposed priest. The supposed priest's hands were spread to his sides.

Whatever doubts Ed had left the marble was a Philosopher's Stone vanished, and Edward took deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm his heart down.

"What next?" Alphonse questioned.

"What else?" Edward asked back. "We're going to meet this 'priest' and his servants ourselves."

.

The church's nave was large, and a large statue of Leto stood at the back, behind a stone altar.

In front of that altar, a girl in a white dress with long black hair that was red in the front knelt, praying, but as with the sermon on the radio, for the same reason, Ed didn't listen to her prayer or prayers, and thought about his idea again, looking for flaws in it he wasn't yet aware of.

He and Al walked forward, and Ed waited until they were standing closer to her to talk. Soon they were standing a distance behind her, and Edward commented, "So this is the divine Leto."

As he spoke, the girl turned to the side and looked at them, revealing she had purple eyes and all of the front of her hair was red.

She rose and turned to face them fully, and as she did, she spoke, "Yes, it is. Are you interested in Leto?"

"I'm sorry, but we're not." He still wasn't sure this was the best approach, but he could think of no better way to try to find out about Cornello's culpability from Cornello or his servants without exposing how much Edward knew. He didn't know this girl _was_ a servant, but she might be, so she was a good place to begin. "Furthermore, you're going to find this hard to believe, but Father Cornello shouldn't be interested in Leto himself." The girl frowned confusedly. "We're alchemists, and we're here with a warning for him. We assume he found the stone he keeps on his ring and he thinks it was given to him by Leto so he could work miracles and spread Leto's teachings to the world, but it's not a medium for performing miracles. It's an alchemic catalyst, and if he keeps playing fast and loose with it like he's doing, he's going to get himself or the people around him hurt or killed."

The girl's eyes widened, a multitude of feelings flickering through her eyes, but nothing showed that told Edward whether or not he could trust her. Then she glared. "That's arrogant." But there was a fear and a desperation present in her voice Ed recognized right away, and his stomach twisted violently. She might be in on one or more plots, but she truly believed Cornello could enact miracles, and whether she was a dupe and a deceiver or just a dupe, Edward now knew why she was. "Who in the world do you think you are to walk in here and say something like that out of the blue?"

Ed pushed back the memories of blinding agony and blood and loss and horror that couldn't be conveyed by words and clamped down on the anguish defying anguish and the rest. He didn't want to put anyone through what he and Alphonse had experienced years ago and were experiencing presently, or talk about this now, but if he didn't, this girl would continue to travel down the same path he had.

And would meet the same fate, one that might very well be irreversible.

He had to save her, however much it would anguish her and Al and tormented him.

He suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes shut extremely tightly, and he prevented his face from twisting. He was all too aware right now of how much this would hurt her, and much of what was within him told him that there was absolutely no way he could do this now that he knew what it was like to lose what he trusted in, and now that he knew what the lives of others genuinely were, that it would be cruel beyond measure and he _knew_ just how cruel beyond measure it would be. But none of that changed anything. It would be immeasurably cruel, but she needed to face the truth, for her own sake.

Hating himself even more now, he responded.

"Someone acquainted with the old myth of the person who flew too close to the Sun." He looked up at the statue of Leto. "Are you aware of what happened to him? His wings melted away and he fell broken back to the ground. If Cornello keeps this up, that's how he'll end up. Maybe not if he sticks to the transmutations he's been working, but if he tries to resurrect someone dead, he'll plummet."

"That's no proof he isn't performing miracles," the girl rejoined. "Maybe he'd suffer if he was an alchemist, but you have no proof he isn't everything he thinks he is."

"Neither you nor he have proof he _is_ everything he thinks he is," Edward said. "Alchemy, on the other hand, has plenty of proof he's a fake. There's something you ought to know. Alchemists are scientists. We don't believe in unprovable concepts such as Creators or Gods. We obey the physical laws that govern reality, and seek the truth."

He was unable to stop himself from shuddering violently saying that. How could he continue to pursue the truth, when the deaths of uncountable millions was an ordinary wave within the flow of the One and All?

But he had to. He shouldn't even be asking this question. The Truth defined reality, and to turn away from it was to turn away from everything that was real, not just portions of it, and life itself.

In addition, searching for the Truth was what it meant to be an alchemist. To betray that would be to betray his very identity. He couldn't accept the Truth now, but he _would_ , somehow, and he'd keep searching for it as long as he lived.

He started, becoming aware his act had fallen apart, but not even the faintest trace of suspicion showed on the girl's face. The girl didn't know one way or the other whether Cornello was culpable, or was too good at hiding it for him to be able to learn anything from her.

This discussion would get him nowhere.

But it was about _far_ more than investigating Cornello now.

"The proper application of science, in a sense, gives us the power to be Gods ourselves," Edward went on, and the girl's jaw dropped. His stomach twisted, for he now knew just how true that was, and how _wrong_ it was alchemy gave them such an indescribable capacity to shape people's lives. He no longer wanted to believe they were Gods; now that he knew how much power alchemy had to bring about suffering and how willing alchemists were to use it that way, he couldn't believe alchemists practiced something marvelous. He couldn't accept they didn't, but nor could he believe it. But it was inescapable; alchemy functioned in accordance with the Truth, and the Truth was the answer to everything. For worse or for better, they were akin to Gods in an extremely remote way. "We'd know if Cornello was enacting miracles or performing alchemy. Cornello and you wouldn't."

"Now you're being even more arrogant!" the girl cried, further angry now. "You're making yourself out to be equal with God! Get over yourself! You aren't all-powerful! I'm not going to believe the warning of someone who makes boasts like that!"

Edward sighed. "I said 'in a sense.' I didn't say we can do anything. Flying too close to the Sun, remember. Additionally, history has known more than its fair share of unscrupulous alchemists; you have no idea how far from infallible we are. But alchemists study science, and science teaches us provable truth. That makes us more like Gods than anything can be. Cornello's an unwitting fraud; or maybe witting, but I doubt it. If he knew he was a fake he wouldn't be proselytizing; he'd be using his catalyst to con money out of simpletons." He wished he could warn the girl Cornello might be a willing fake, but he had to keep up his lie. "I don't know who you lost," the girl's eyes widened at the revelation he knew she was hoping Cornello could restore someone she loved to her, "And I wish you could get him or her back, but I have to give you the bad news; you can't."

The girl forced a laugh, to hide he was disturbing her. "For all your words, I see you still haven't provided any of the proof you praise. If you believe in provable concepts, why can't you provide any yourself? Or could it be _you're_ the fraud?"

"Do the words 'the Law of Equivalent Exchange' mean anything to you, Miss…?" Before he gave her a real reason to fear, he wanted to at least extend her the courtesy of learning her name.

"Rose," she told him evenly. "Rose Thomas."

"Rose, then," Ed reached into his right cloak pocket and removed his alchemy book. "Do you know anything about the Law of Equivalent Exchange?"

"I know very little about alchemy," Rose answered, "So no."

"According to the Law of Equivalent Exchange," Ed spoke, "Nothing can be obtained without first giving something of equal value. You can't create something out of nothing. There is, though, one way to break this law." He flipped to a page in the alchemy book and turned it to face her. "Look at this."

Now fear and worry appeared on Rose's face, along with a pain too deep for her face to be showing all of it, and Ed clenched his teeth. But she must have believed there was no reason to be afraid, for she walked forward and read out loud.

"'"The Red Tincture." "The Fifth Element." "The Divine Elixir." "The celestial stone that destroyed the city of Xerxes in a single night." There are many names for the substance known as the Philosopher's Stone, and many myths about its appearance. A number of the myths state it's a stone, others a liquid, others a semi-liquid. But all agree on two things. The Stone is a catalyst whereby an alchemist can transmute without feeding an equal amount of matter into the process to the matter the alchemist wishes to gain,'" Rose's voice became a little unsteady as she read this, "'And the Stone is red.'"

Then she smiled in relief. "'The Stone is believed to have miraculous healing powers.' You must not remember your research very well. So what if Father Cornello has the Stone? Alchemy can bring the dead back to life if you have it."

Ed flipped to another page, a list of ingredients.

"What's this?" Rose inquired.

"It tells us the complete chemical makeup of the human body for the average adult," Edward told her. "It's been calculated down to the last microgram. But to this day there hasn't yet been a record of an alchemist performing a successful human transmutation. There's always been something missing from each transmutation, something modern science hasn't yet uncovered. The Philosopher's Stone can't succeed in transmuting something when the alchemist doesn't know what the ingredients are. The process of transmutation is understanding, deconstruction, and reconstruction. And if the Philosopher's Stone can't do it, the transmutation will probably still operate under Equivalent Exchange. The Stone probably can't break the law if it doesn't know how."

Worry reappeared on Rose's face, but she said, "It must be difficult to gather the chemicals that comprise a human. Alchemists must not have been able to access the missing ingredient or ingredients, but I'm sure plenty of them discovered what it is. Even if they haven't, Father Cornello is a recipient of divine revelation. I'm sure Leto told Father Cornello what secular alchemists haven't learned."

Edward laughed harshly. "You couldn't be more wrong. All those ingredients can be purchased at the nearest convenience store for spare change. As it turns out, humans are pretty cheap."

Ed's stomach heaved violently at speaking those words. That was probably how the Fϋhrer and the government saw the citizens of Amestris, he realized, and how the government had seen them for centuries. As nothing more than cheap convenience store compounds.

And Ed thought of humans as compounds one could purchase for spare change at a convenience store as well. What, then, made him any different from–

He scowled furiously. No. He wasn't like them the most infinitesimal amount.

"It has nothing to do with an alchemist's ability to access the ingredients," he spoke. "We genuinely don't know."

"Leto does," Rose said back. "Leto is omniscient."

Edward wished he could tell her, whether Cornello was lying or being lied to, Leto was a fiction, but that wasn't an option. So he questioned, "Do you really want Cornello to risk paying the price for being wrong about Leto's existence? Do _you_ want to risk paying that price? Show her, Al." He'd prefer to show Rose his automail, but they'd be at less of a disadvantage if Cornello knew Al had no flesh and blood body than if he knew about Edward's automail. "Show her what happens when you fly too close to the Sun."

Rose's eyes widened, and she gazed at them, now transfixed, terror and horror and countless other emotions passing over her face.

"We're sorry," Al spoke. "We wish we didn't have to shatter your hopes. But we don't want to see you end up like I have."

He took his helmet off, and bent his armor so Rose could see there was nothing inside of it.

Her eyes remained locked on Al.

"When we were younger," Al told her, and she started violently as his voice came from the armor's torso, "Our mother died. Brother got the idea of performing a human transmutation to bring her back, and we tried it. But the transmutation failed, and in exchange for attempting to create a body, mind, and soul, I lost my body and mind. All that exists in this suit of armor is a soul. There's more to the story than that, but this should give you an idea of what you and Cornello are dabbling in."

Rose didn't say anything for several seconds, her eyes still locked on Al. Then she shook her head, then shook it again, repeatedly, rapidly, desperately, and Ed's heart ached.

"No!" she cried. "It doesn't give me an idea! You don't know for sure he has the Stone! They might be miracles! Cornello might truly be able to perform miracles! He has to be!"

Rose started shaking violently.

"Can you sit back and let him risk his body because you don't want to believe he might be wrong?" Al asked gently. "We're sorry. We know what you're feeling, more than you can imagine. We went through it ourselves. If we could, we'd attempt to find a way to show you the truth less harshly. But we have to ask this of you. Cornello is endangering himself, and perhaps others, and it may be even worse. He might know he can't perform miracles, and might be lying to you all and using you for an unknown reason. We've got to meet with him. Please, could you take us to him?"

Edward didn't know how much time passed as she stood there, shaking violently. But he let time pass wordlessly, feeling totally sick, wishing with everything he was he could tell her he knew, as well, what it was like to have his trust in the thing he believed in torn apart. He hoped dearly Cornello _was_ no more than a dupe himself. Edward was aware, too, how much it would further hurt Rose if she found out he had been deceiving her all this time and was willingly using her.

Finally Rose opened her mouth. "I don't work here," her voice was so unsteady and flooding over with so much agony Ed wanted to retch. "But Father Cornello knows me. He'll grant us an audience. Who should I tell him you are?"

"Introduce me as Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist," Edward replied, and if she recognized the name "Elric" or his title, she was too upset to show it, "And Al as Alphonse Elric."

She nodded, and walked toward a wooden double door to her left, opened it, and walked through it.

"Artin." Her voice was steadier now.

A male's voice questioned, "What's wrong?"

"Hopefully you'll never need to know," she responded. "Could you please inform Father Cornello an alchemist known as the Fullmetal Alchemist, named Edward Elric, and his brother, Alphonse Elric, are here wishing to speak with him about an urgent matter?"

"Sure."

.

A male in white opened one of the two double doors into a darkened chamber, and the male in the mostly black suit Rose had named "Cray" led them into a large torch-lit room with a floor and walls a shade of lighter brown. Edward looked at the two white-clothed male guards standing inside the double doors as they entered without turning his eyes, marking their positions. If Cornello was culpable, this would be a good time for an ambush.

"The Father is right this way," Cray informed them. Rose was walking in next to them, and Ed kept his eyes on her. If she was in on any plotting and they were ambushed, she was also a threat. "You must address him with the reverence befitting a messenger of Leto."

"Don't trouble yourself reminding us of that," Edward smiled. "I know."

"The Father is a very busy person," Cray replied, "So much that even a State Alchemist wouldn't usually be able to gain an audience with him. But if Rose says the matter is urgent, he believes her." The door closed behind them and Ed looked back warily. "That's why we can't allow you to leave this cathedral alive."

Rose's eyes widened, and Ed whirled back at Cray to see the servant pointing a gun at Al, and then two spears were thrust diagonally down before him and Al.

Fury erupted through Edward at Cray's and the guards' actions, and he snarled. This told them whether Cornello was culpable, and that meant Rose was being used by Cornello even if she was a willing participant in any of his plots.

"What are you doing!?" Rose cried, and her shock sounded real, but Edward remained wary of her. "They're here with a warning for Father Cornello! They're not a threat!"

"Yes, they are," Cray responded. "They're agents of the Amestrian military, sent to prevent the Father from spreading his teachings because the military fears the doctrines of Leto will one day become a threat to them."

The desperate, guiltless hope that appeared in Rose's eyes held so much within it familiar to Edward he could tell she had no knowledge Cornello was a willing fraud, and that was the final straw.

"You just wish," Edward snarled, and grabbed the spear before him, bending forward and hurling the guard behind him into Cray before the guard could release the spear with enough force to send the two of them crashing to the floor, Cray's head colliding with the stone and his eyes rolling up in his head, his gun sliding across the stone to Rose's feet. Before the guard could rise Ed was on him, smashing the wooden end of the spear into the back of the guard's head with far more force than necessary to knock him out, though not enough to risk his death. Edward whirled on the other guard, but Al had already punched him back into the wall behind him hard enough to knock him unconscious like the other two were.

"What… what is this?" Rose shrank away from them, a different fear in her eyes now. "What are you two doing?"

"A better question would be what Cornello's doing," Ed responded. "He _does_ know he's a fake. There's no other reason for him to have attacked us."

Rose's eyes went wide, but then she glared. "You're going too far now. He'd never do that. I don't care what's wrong with Alphonse, I can't trust you two."

Footsteps sounded from the other end of the chamber, and Ed turned to see Cornello walk out of the shadows on a raised walkway. "What's happening down here?" he questioned.

Edward didn't waste any time. He clapped his hands, slammed them to the floor, and transmuted a pole in currents of blue. Then he charged forward, intending to vault up to the raised walkway and punch Cornello to a bloody wreck.

Cornello's eyes widened and he walked backwards quickly, pulling a lever in the wall behind him. Ed skidded to a halt, and double wooden doors in the side of the chamber opened. From the darkness beyond them, a large animal with glowing red eyes walked out, the doors closing behind it. It had the head, forelegs, and front torso of a lion, a scaly back torso, upper back legs, and tail, and bird's talons for lower back legs and feet. Transmutation markings showed around its eyes and on the right side of its brow.

Edward swore as the beast's eyes stopped glowing, revealing eyes with golden irises and slitted pupils. "A Chimera."

"So you know of these," Cornello's voice came from the walkway. "I created this one myself. I haven't had many successes at performing miracles on living beings past healing injuries yet, but I have had a small amount. This is one of them. I'd keep your distance from me if I were you. This thing has claws that can slice through iron. Do something rash and you'll regret it."

Edward didn't want to admit it, but he was very slightly impressed. He knew very little about how Chimera alchemy worked, or what it could do, and he'd never seen a Chimera this multifaceted before. It was comprised of at least four different animals; the back torso and upper back legs, and the tail, were covered with scales of different colors. Furthermore, if its claws could cut iron, that meant its brute strength or the sharpness of its claws, or both, had been altered beyond what anything in nature could achieve. Chimera alchemy could apparently effect biological changes superior to anything he'd thought alchemy could do with animals.

Hope rose. If Chimera alchemy could do this with animals, maybe its transmutations could work on more than just non-human animals. Maybe it could reconstruct _human_ bodies.

They'd never studied Chimera alchemy before. If the Philosopher's Stone was a dead end, perhaps Chimera alchemy held the key to them regaining their bodies.

But Edward let nothing of these thoughts and feelings show. He sneered derisively. "This thing is no miracle. Even a novice alchemist could identify this as the result of a transmutation. Its transmutation markings are in plain sight!"

Ed jolted violently.

Transmutation markings.

Why hadn't he thought of that right away!?

" _You're inexperienced, and your modus operandi makes you ill equipped to play this game as well."_

Remembering the Colonel was right about him made Edward's mood even worse, but he took a deep breath, and then another and another, and continued to breathe in and out deeply, attempting to calm down. He should have thought of what the transmutation markings meant as soon as he saw them. Following his emotions was preventing him from helping anyone, and he had acknowledged to himself he needed to change his ways.

All right. The transmutation markings had a good chance of convincing Rose Cornello was a fake, but how could he convince the rest of Liore? He couldn't reveal his and Al's secrets to the city, or show them the Chimera.

But he could set things up so they _heard_ what they needed to.

He walked back to Al, keeping his eyes on Cornello and the Chimera.

"Al," he whispered. "This church has a bell, and it must have a broadcasting room from which Cornello delivers his radio sermons."

Al understood before Ed had finished his second sentence.

"Are you sure you can take Cornello alone?" Alphonse asked in a whisper. "He has a Philosopher's Stone."

Edward snorted. "A second-rate alchemist so inept he leaves transmutation markings on biological matter? He won't even brush me."

"I'll take your word for it," Al replied. Then he turned and ran for the doors they'd entered through.

"I didn't dismiss you!" Cornello shouted, and the Chimera turned and ran after Al.

Ed intercepted it, elbowing it in the side of the furry part of its torso with his automail arm and sending it staggering to the side. Then he twisted in front of it, pushed his automail arm into its mouth, and dug his feet into the floor. The Chimera tried to bite down on his arm and shifted to bowl him over, but when the arm didn't give a confused expression came to its face and it didn't charge him.

"What!?" Cornello cried.

Edward heard the doors to the room open and close, and wrenched the Chimera's head up, then yanked his arm out of its maw and spun on his right foot into a kick with his automail foot. The Chimera went flying a short distance back and to the side and landed on its side, unconscious.

Cornello smiled unpleasantly. "So that's it. That's why you're known as the 'Fullmetal Alchemist.'"

"Got it in one," Ed spoke back, and walked in the direction of the Chimera. "Don't worry, however. I'll keep my distance. You've made it blindingly obvious I don't need to advise you to quit your charade with the Stone." Cornello frowned at Edward's revelation he knew Cornello had the Philosopher's Stone. "There's someone else I need to save."

Cornello didn't say anything in return, probably using the reprieve Ed had given him to think about what to do now.

He wrapped his arms around the Chimera and pulled, dragging it in the direction of Rose, who was watching what was taking place with wide eyes, a mixture of feelings on her expression. He positioned the Chimera's visage before Rose, and said, "Look at these," gesturing to the transmutation markings. "Cornello spoke it himself, he created this. Further, these marks are what set aside most alchemically transmuted matter from unaltered matter."

"Please," Rose rejoined. "Stop it."

Edward took out his alchemy textbook again and flipped to one of the pages at the front of the book, then showed it to her. "These are pictures of basic transmutations."

Her eyes flew wide, and absolute horror appeared on her face. She jerked violently away from the book as if it had burnt her, whipping her head away from it, and squeezed her eyes closed extremely tightly and began to shake violently again. "No!" But she didn't fall to her knees as Edward had thought she would, and he found himself incredibly impressed. Rose was much stronger than she'd acted thus far. " _No!_ "

She dug her nails into her forehead, pressing her hands against her face, and kept shaking without words for several seconds, but then she opened her eyes and Ed's eyes went wide as she whirled on Cornello. "Why!?" she yelled. "How could you do this!? What do you have to gain from deceiving an entire town!? You could run scams all over Amestris and be lining your pockets with gold!? What would possess you to cause you to go this far!?"

Cornello glared at Ed for exposing him to her, then shook his head, pretending to be disappointed in her. "How can you not see it, child? Why con gold from idiots when I can appoint myself master of every bank in this state? You don't see the potential of having a throng of the blindly faithful who are utterly convinced their God will grant them eternal life or restore them to this one. I can turn them into an army of soldiers unafraid of death, and launch a suicide coup that is sure to succeed because my minions will fight the military without any regard for their safety. _That's_ why."

Ed ground his teeth and fisted his hands so tightly the nails of his left hand drew blood through his glove. After what the Colonel had assumed, nothing Cornello had revealed had surprised Ed, but every word he'd spoken must have shredded Rose further. He took more deep breaths, everything within him screaming at him to fly at Cornello and beat him into a mass of blood.

Then Cornello smiled gently. "But what does it matter what my motives are, or whether I perform alchemy or miracles? The result is the same. I found the Philosopher's Stone, the legendary alchemic catalyst that can break the laws of nature. You have no God to bequeath you eternal life, but I can still give Cain back to you. Nor do you know you will die when I launch my holy war. For all you know you'll survive, and live out the rest of your life in peace, reunited with Cain and married to him. Is this what is genuinely in your heart, dear Rose? To turn your back on your chance at happiness?"

That should have done it. That Cornello was _still_ trying to use Rose even though it meant she'd be willingly breaking her legs knowing what it meant and turning on her friends and fellow townsfolk should have sent him rocketing at Cornello and punching him in the face unrestrainedly.

But a beaten up Cornello couldn't expose himself, and then Liore would become another Ishval and Amestris would be that much closer to a lifeless wasteland. Too much was at stake for him to follow his emotions like he usually did.

"You're still lying to me," Rose's voice was incredibly unsteady, but she wasn't yelling now, and Ed was impressed further still. "Edward told me. There's been a missing ingredient in every attempt at human transmutation. Trying to transmute a human also comes with too heavy a price, and price I'd likely still have to pay because you can't use the Stone successfully without knowing the ingredient. Cain is…" Her voice broke. "…Lost."

"You can't say that for sure," Cornello argued, tone reasonable, coaxing, akin to the tone of a parent trying to convince a child not to do something stupid. "I alone control the Philosopher's Stone, so all I need is to discover that ingredient or ingredients and then I can bring him back." Rose lost the ability to breathe, and Edward struggled to breathe himself. She couldn't be seriously considering…

"No one else even has a chance of resurrecting your beloved," Cornello continued. "I'm your sole chance at rising above your despair. Knowing that, will you truly throw me away? I'm willing to welcome you back with open arms any time, child. All I require is your vow not to reveal what you have learned here to anyone else, and for you to pick up that gun and shoot the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Rose recoiled violently, eyes flying down to the gun at her feet in more horror, and Ed bared his teeth at Cornello. So that was the bastard's game.

But then, to Edward's horror, the violently shaking Rose bent toward the gun.

"No, Rose!" he cried. "Don't do it! There's a microscopic possibility he can pull it off, but Al and I haven't told you the full price yet! Al lost his body, mind, _and_ soul when we tried the human transmutation! His soul is inside a suit of armor now because I gave my right arm to recover it!" Rose's eyes widened another time, and Edward yanked his cloak off and then ripped off the black shirt under it, exposing his automail arm. "I lost my left leg in the initial transmutation too!" He ripped off his left pants leg, exposing the automail there as well. "Transmute your boyfriend and you may lose _everything_ , or lose less than Al did but become disfigured! And you'll lose them for what!? The barest thread of a chance Cornello can succeed! He has no better resources to learn the missing ingredients from than any other alchemist!"

Rose was standing up straight now, the gun in both her hands, but she wasn't pointing it at him.

Seconds passed.

Then Ed's legs weakened as, bit by bit, it lowered.

"Come now, Rose," Cornello chided gently. "A bare thread of a chance is better than nothing. Are you honestly attempting to tell me what you really want is to return to your hopeless existence, parentless and loveless, because you might lose yourself to try to regain what's important to you? Are you truly attempting to tell me you believe it's _not_ worth risking your life or wholeness, when there is a glimmer of light you can pursue that might enable you to reclaim joy in your life? That's what you dearly wish for in the depths of your heart, Rose? A forsaken life in despair, not contentment and happiness with the one you love? I don't believe that. I believe you feel, if a gossamer thread is flickering before you, you should reach out and seize it, whatever the likelihood it's an illusion, for it's always worth taking any chance if that's what you have to do to attain happiness. Or am I wrong?"

The gun stopped lowering.

Edward ground his teeth so hard he was certain they would chip. He wished he could get Rose away from Cornello. Away from his manipulative tongue she might be able to see what he was genuinely asking of her, and make the smart choice. But he couldn't pick her up and run. He needed to remain with Cornello until Al set up the broadcasting contraption and he could fool Cornello into exposing himself.

There was nothing for it. Ed hadn't even told _Al_ how he felt about this, but Edward was going to have to show Rose a part of his heart he'd never opened to anyone else. Worse, he was going to have to inflict a more grievous injury on her than any she'd taken today yet.

He _hated_ himself. _Was_ he any different from the Fϋhrer and High Command, when Ed could do this to someone?

He was out of options, however. This was the only way left to save her, even though he didn't know what, precisely, he'd be saving now.

"There's one other thing I haven't told you, Rose," Ed did his best to make his own voice gentle. He had to do everything he could to lessen _this_ blow. "The human transmutation will almost certainly fail, but it will succeed in a fashion. Cain will be brought back," Rose's eyes flew wide, "But he'll be brought back in a misshapen form that will almost certainly have no ability to survive, and seconds later, he'll almost certainly die again, in agony." One of Rose's hands flew to an open mouth, the other still holding the gun, and she gazed at him, transfixed again, this time in complete horror. "That's right. By attempting to give her back her life, I murdered my mother with my own two hands. If Cornello brings Cain back, the same thing will almost certainly happen to him. He'll almost certainly die again, seconds later, in terrible pain. Do you want to risk _that_?"

The gun clattered to the floor, and Rose fell to her knees after it, head lowered. Ed waited several seconds, but Rose made no motion towards it. Rather, she began bawling, hysterically, uncontrollably, body wracked by the force of her crying.

Ed sighed heavily, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he could recall feeling before in his life. For the first time he was aware of how much he ached all over. He was certain he'd reached her, but, although she was stronger than he'd thought, the revelation she'd been helping Cornello almost certainly murder the boy she loved might turn out to be too much for her on top of everything else.

He was revolting.

But there was no time for this. He clapped his hands, touched the floor, and transmuted a rock dome with small holes for air to seep through that weren't large enough for bullets to penetrate up around Rose in a wash of blue.

He faced Cornello.

"Come down here and fight me yourself, you maggot," he spoke, so exhausted he no longer wished to punch Cornello over and over, but Edward's voice burning with fury. "I'm about to show you how outclassed you really are."

.

Al pressed his hands to the floor in front of the transmutation circle, and blue shone, altering the cables into a microphone.

He was almost done.

He started drawing another transmutation circle on the wall separating the hallway, now strewn with unconscious bodies, from the room where Brother was confronting Cornello.

He was still surprised Brother had come up with this plan so quickly. Brother didn't charge heedlessly into trouble as often as people criticized him for, but it was unusual for him to plan things out first. His typical approach to trouble was to plunge in and then adapt to whatever came his way. Coming up with the idea of acting like they believed Cornello didn't know what he was getting into hadn't surprised Alphonse; they'd been doing nothing but investigating then.

This was a different matter.

Alphonse believed in his brother, but part of him hadn't thought Brother would take Mustang's advice and use his brain more. Part of him hadn't been able to believe that was Brother.

But Al had known better, and he was sickened transcending sickness this much of him was surprised. Al could never have seen his brother fighting for the welfare of the nation, but Brother was still Brother. When it was brought to his attention other people were suffering in particular ways or particularly badly, he took it _very_ seriously. He didn't know he thought this way, but he believed bearing burdens meant other people's burdens were his and his alone to bear as well as his own; he'd been that way since as far back as Alphonse could remember, and from multiple ways his brother had spoken and acted during times he had assisted others over the past around three years, Alphonse had been able to tell how they'd spent the majority of that time out for themselves looking for a way to get their bodies back hadn't altered that part of Brother. No part of Al should be surprised Brother was willing to change. That a portion of Alphonse was when he knew better was an unforgivable betrayal of his faith in Brother.

But a portion of Al was surprised. He'd believed his brother was an immature child when it came to confronting hardship for years, for reasons similar to Mustang's; such an immature child his brother might not be able to alter himself.

Brother clearly _wasn't_ that much of an immature child, though. He was an immature child, but he was rising to this new, unbelievable challenge despite how tremendous it was.

Alphonse, however, was even more infantile than he'd discovered he was after the Freezer had told them what shape the country was in.

That was part of why Al was so sickened surpassing thought. He'd seen Brother as more of an immature child than he genuinely was, while Alphonse hadn't had the barest concept of how childish he really was.

There was no question Brother was as terrified surpassing terror for Al as Al was for his Brother, and as terrified for Winry and of the ghastly reality McDougal had exposed to them as Alphonse was, but in spite of that and the scale of the adversity they were facing and everything else, his brother was changing in ways Alphonse hadn't been sure Brother was capable of.

What had Alphonse done, on the other hand?

He'd _given up_. He needed to be strong to walk on his legs, but he'd lost all the hope he'd had of them regaining their bodies because of the size and depth of the danger Amestris was in, and the more he thought about it, the more he saw how disgustingly _stupid_ he'd been.

Brother was right. They didn't know they couldn't get their bodies back with Amestris in these straits, and they now had the best evidence yet they _could_ get them back. Yet, like a child crying over a lost ice cream cone, Alphonse had let something _wholly unrelated_ to their quest crush him.

How could he have believed he wasn't even as infantile as he'd found out he was after McDougal's revelations?

He didn't know. What he did know was he felt incomparably more undeserving of Brother sacrificing his right arm for him than Al had at any time before. Because Alphonse now knew his brother had given his arm for a sibling who hadn't lived up to Brother's capabilities by an immeasurable amount, and who had failed to believe in him.

He finished the transmutation circle and pressed his head to the wall, waiting until he heard the sound of a wall rising in the chamber, and then touched the circle with his palms.

In more blue light, a hole formed in the wall, and Al slid the microphone through it, then flicked the switch further back along the wire connected to it to "On."

"I'm done on my end, Brother," Alphonse whispered. "It's up to you now."

.

 _Cornello laughed. "A 'maggot,' am I? When I own the Philosopher's Stone? How humorous." He picked up a cane in his right hand from where it rested against a pillar of the walkway's railing, and pressed it into his left palm. Red coursed over it, and it shifted into a multi-barreled machine gun. He pointed it at Ed. "Surrender now and perhaps I'll give you a position as a jester when I make this country my own."_

 _"The only clown in this room is you!" Edward shot back, and clapped his hands and placed his left hand against the back of his automail wrist. Deciding to show Cornello what a real alchemist could do, he didn't transmute his usual sword out of his automail arm. As opposed to that, in coursing blue currents, he transmuted much of the automail arm itself into a large blade with holes in the center, saw points on its inner edge, bladed wings in the front of the blade and at its back ends, and pictures of tongues of flame to the right and left of the holes. Ed could feel from the weight of his automail arm pulling against his shoulder the sword was unwieldy, but he doubted he needed a practical sword to defeat a second-rate fraud like this._

 _"No transmutation circle again," Cornello said. "You State Alchemists have unusual abilities of your own."_

 _"I didn't learn how to do this by becoming a State Alchemist," Ed shifted the blade into a ready position. "How about we say this is what comes from knowing the difference between lies and the truth?"_

 _"How about you never say anything again!?" Cornello retorted. "I don't know how much the military knows about my actions, but they won't be learning a thing from you!" Edward suppressed the urge to snort. Apparently Cornello was an ambitious dupe. If he only knew._

 _"I'm not here because I was assigned to come here by the military," he maintained his act. "My brother and I came here of our own good will to warn you not to fool with the Stone. Further, I'll confess, we were hoping you'd lend it to us. But you've_ really _gotten on my bad side, so I'm going to make you regret it."_

 _"Oh, really?" Cornello questioned. "How do you intend to do that, when I can do…" He opened fire, sending a hail of bullets tracking along the floor towards Ed "…_ This _!?"_

Ed had yet to believe 'this' was 'anything worrisome,' and he extremely highly doubted he would. Edward had been correct; Cornello was a second-rate clown.

He clapped his left hand to where his right hand had become part of his blade and touched the floor with his left hand and that part of the sword yet another time, sending up another rock wall and blocking the storm of bullets as Cornello finished turning the machine gun in his direction and they once again reached his position.

Ed had no idea how long they'd been engaged in this dance, but he knew Hawkeye would be exasperated past measure by now at how amateurish Cornello was with a gun. As Edward had assumed might be the case, Cornello had little combat skill. He frequently wasted bullets by firing them into the floor or the walls as he moved or turned his machine gun when he should have been waiting until the gun was aimed at Ed to fire, and he made no attempt to use the staircases and railings connected to the walkway ensemble he was on for cover or ambushes. He wasn't a complete idiot; he often fired through the spaces between the metal walls to discourage Ed from coming out from behind them, and most of the time when Edward drew near to the walkway ensemble Cornello laid down sweeps of covering fire before it to try to keep Ed from getting close enough to reach him.

Ed could have ascended to Cornello's position shortly after the battle had begun, however. His reflexes and the speed at which he shifted his gun to where Edward was were too slow. The main reason this was still going on was because Ed was stalling for time.

He raced out from behind the wall, charged the walkway, and then clapped and slapped the floor as Cornello turned the machine gun in his direction, transmuting up another wall to cover the opening between two rock walls to its left and right in more coursing blue and blocking the firearm's bullets.

Red shone to the sides of and above the walls, and Edward knew Cornello had transmuted more bullets for his machine gun for the third time. He hadn't needed to reload it as often as Edward had believed the false priest would; the machine gun had proven it was no ordinary model numerous minutes ago.

Edward ran out from behind this wall and at the walkway, then clapped and touched the floor, sending up rock in blue currents before Cornello could point his machine gun in that direction. As Ed did, he heard the back wall of the room separating behind him over the roar of gunfire and the sound of the ascending wall, and smirked unpleasantly.

Playtime was done.

He waited a number of seconds to give Al time to move the microphone into the chamber and turn the transmuted equipment on, and then shouted up to Cornello, "You still haven't given up!? You're not going to catch me, and you're not going to luck out and need to reload when I'm not in a position to exploit that opening every time! Once you stop to transmute another store, it's over!"

Cornello stopped firing and snarled, worry present clearly on his face, but cried, "Empty bravado! I wield the Philosopher's Stone, and you're bound by the Law of Equivalent Exchange!"

"Stop kidding me," Edward scoffed. "You don't have the skill or talent to wield the Stone correctly and you know it! If you did, you wouldn't be lying to your faithful! You'd be using it to assassinate the top officials of the government yourself!"

"You underestimate me," Cornello rejoined. "I could assassinate the Fϋhrer and High Command on my own. But I see no reason to risk my life when I have a legion of clueless followers who have willingly enslaved themselves to my every whim, and will die for me at a single word. Why endanger myself when I can sacrifice an army of people who can pay the price of revolt in my place?"

"Because you promised them the teachings of Leto would improve their lives," Ed responded. "The promises you made them must mean at least a little to you."

Cornello laughed. "They mean nothing whatsoever to me! They're not one milligram more than a means to trick them into dying for me! I'm never going to waste my time making brainless twits like them happy, and I'm never going to risk harming myself trying to resurrect one of them if he or she dies when I almost certainly won't succeed! Additionally, even if I wanted to, I couldn't fulfill them! Leto is a figment of their imaginations! He can't bestow eternal life on them or give them any of the things I pretended he could!"

Ed grinned. "Thanks for coming clean and telling them all that." He walked out from behind the transmuted wall and pointed at the microphone resting in the front of the chamber with a finger.

Cornello looked at the microphone for a number of seconds, motionless, and then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

Ed stopped letting time pass. He ran at the walkway while Cornello was distracted, jumped up, grabbed onto the pillars of the railing, and flipped up over it into a two-footed kick that connected with Cornello's face and sent him staggering back into the wall. Edward landed and sliced down with his unwieldy sword, slashing Cornello's machine gun into two pieces.

Cornello seized the back piece in his left hand, red crackled over it and it shifted, but, before Edward could strike the fake priest in the face with Edward's left hand and knock him out, red light burst from whatever was forming, and when it vanished dark metal with mostly light metal rods and light metal cables attached to a light metal shape was merged with Cornello's right arm.

But new hatred of himself was ripping through him along with, among other feelings, revulsion and relief. He was relieved Cornello hadn't been killed by the rebound, but it was _Ed's_ fault Cornello had been taken by the rebound. He should have thought a rebound could be caused if an imperfect Stone stopped working when it was amplifying a transmutation!

There was Intense relief and powerful disappointment too. Intense relief the Stone was imperfect and in the process of collapsing, so he wouldn't have to take it with him and deal with all the feelings that would cause, and powerful disappointment that meant he couldn't use this Stone to regain their bodies for certain.

"A rebound," Ed spoke, keeping his voice low so the microphone wouldn't pick it up. "Looks like your Stone's as fake as you are." Red coursed out from the marble on Cornello's ring. "The Philosopher's Stone shouldn't cause one of those when you were doing a regular transmutation."

"That's im–"

Cornello cut himself off as red currents crackled out from him, and as Edward looked on, Cornello's eyes glowed red and he began to grow in size, his clothes stretching and then ripping off, save for the upper portion of his black pants, that enlarged with him.

Edward didn't know whether to be revolted or impressed. He'd never heard of uncontrolled alchemic energies having this catastrophic an effect on the body of the alchemist who had failed to transmute. Even breaking down, the Philosopher's Stone was obviously what the legends said it was.

The metal mass merged with Cornello's right arm grew with him, and in a number of seconds the male was so large his fist was the majority of Edward's height. He stopped growing then and his eyes stopped glowing, revealing themselves to now be an iris-less red in eyes sunken and darkly shadowed, and took a step forward, his foot smashing through the floor when it came down.

" _You're_ the fake," Cornello snarled furiously and quietly. "No false Stone could do this! _You're_ the one dabbling in things you should be keeping your nose out of! What happened to you years ago clearly taught you nothing! Now, once more, you're going to pay the price!"

"You don't have a clue at all, do you!?" Ed laughed quietly. "A rebound is when you fail at a transmutation, and it goes out of control and ravages the body of the person who transmuted! You didn't discover the Stone can do more than you thought it could! You won't even have the Stone much longer; it's falling apart! This charade is over, and I'm going to end it now!"

Cornello swung his metal-merged arm at him, but Edward backflipped to the side of his body and clapped as he descended, then touched the floor of the walkway. A gigantic amount of the stone walkways and staircases behind Ed shifted, and then a gigantic statue of Leto the same color as the stairs and the floors surged up out of the floor and stairs of the walkways, facing out at the chamber and already swinging its left fist at Cornello. The fist collided with his body and threw him against the staircases to his left, and the force of the impact with Cornello's body when it was being transmuted in a wild fashion into an unnatural state must have been too much for the imperfect Stone. More red coursed from Cornello, his body shrinking back to its natural size as the transmutation ended, and the Stone turned a dull red, fell from his ring, and cracked and broke apart into pieces that dissipated into the air.

Cornello gazed down at where the Stone had been in horror.

"How about you never spew lies from your mouth again?" Edward threw Cornello's earlier words back in his face and slugged him with his left fist, and Cornello dropped.

Ed staggered, his exhaustion returning full force, and barely kept his knees from giving out. Then he clapped and reverted his automail arm in a wash of blue, then turned and partially staggered, partially walked down one of the staircases back to the floor proper, and called, "We're done, Al!"

The front doors opened, and Alphonse walked in.

Ed paid him little attention, though, and walked over to the microphone. He crushed it with his automail foot, then walked over to the dome Rose was inside. He clapped again and touched the dome, sending it into the floor in more blue.

Rose didn't look up at him, just kept crying, though it was no longer uncontrollable or hysterical, and Ed knelt before her. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "But there was no other way."

Rose didn't respond, or look up at him, and Ed closed his eyes.

He opened them. "For what it's worth," he spoke, "We understand more than what it's like to believe deceptions, and to learn the dead can't be brought back to life. We've recently learned the alchemy _we_ believe in isn't what we thought it was. It does teach us the truth, but there are truths it teaches we didn't know it had to tell us, and we don't know how to move forward from them. So we know a lot of what you're going through now. You're not alone, Rose."

Rose didn't respond, or look up at him.

"But there's something we do know," he went on. "We don't know how to move forward, so I have no comfort to offer you about that, but we do know we can keep going. We have strong legs, and we can walk on them. You do, too. You have something left."

Rose didn't respond, or look up at him.

Ed sighed heavily. "When" not 'if' "we learn how to move forward, we'll find you. We'll do whatever we can to make this up to you."

Rose didn't respond, or look up at him.

Edward sighed again.

"Can you," he wanted to ask 'are you willing to,' but that would mean being cruel to her again, and he no longer had any reason not to avoid that as much as he could now, "leave here by yourself?" he questioned. "Furthermore, are you willing to in around the next few minutes? If the Chimera or any of the humans here wake up, you'll be in danger. Could you please answer these questions? I need to know whether I need to carry you out of here."

Rose nodded, twice, but she didn't look up at him or stop crying.

Edward sagged, and for several seconds his arm and leg felt too weak for him to stand.

Then he got up and walked in the direction of the entrance to the chamber. He couldn't think of anything more to say to Rose. "Let's go, Al."

The sooner they left this town, the better.

.

"He's been lying to you, Rose."-Edward Elric

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD:

Episode 3: CITY OF HERESY


	3. Sewing Death

.

 **CHAPTER 3:**

 **SEWING DEATH**

.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," the secretary greeted him over his office phone, "There's a direct call for your office line from a public line in Central. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes wishes to speak to you."

Roy sighed, although it was an act. "He probably wants to bug me for ideas for his daughter's upcoming third birthday again. Put him through, and tell him if he calls me on this line again for that reason I'm filing a report."

"I'll do that, sir," the secretary replied. A number of seconds later, the phone clicked.

"Roy," Hughes greeted. "I'll get right to the point. First, you should know Scar has struck again. Last night, he murdered Brigadier General Basque Grand in Central."

Roy's eyebrows rose. Grand was an expert in weapons transmutation. Anyone who could defeat him was a danger to be reckoned with.

"Do you have any clues where Scar is now?" Roy questioned.

"Regretfully, no," Hughes responded.

"Then what have you discovered? I know you wouldn't have called me at my office if you didn't have important news. Or has something gone wrong?"

"I haven't been able to get close to Laboratory Five. The entrance is guarded, and the place is walled off with high walls covered by spiked wire. I know the work schedules of everyone in Doctor Marcoh's research team and when they're free, but I don't have any ideas yet how to approach one of them with questions without it looking suspicious. I do, though, have an idea where we might find Doctor Marcoh."

Roy blinked. "Already?"

"According to the case records at the court martial office, the military's been searching for him for years, and doing a very thorough job of it. They've combed the most remote residential areas in Amestris and countless cities, towns, and villages, and they've done so multiple times in case Marcoh has changed where he's hiding over the years. But they haven't found a single clue to his whereabouts."

"Then what makes you think you may have found him, and this soon?"

"All of the locations the military has combed were out-of-the-way places, or places with no train stations, that isn't on a river and has no docks, and similar residential areas. They're looking for him in places where a fugitive has the best chance of hiding. But because they haven't found him in any of these places after all this time, this leads me to a conclusion."

"You think he's hiding in plain sight?"

"I think it's probable. I doubt he's gone so far as to hide in Central or one of the regional capitals… that would have been too risky. But I think we may find him in an average sized town along one of the major railway lines."

"There are still hundreds of those. That isn't much help."

"It is when you take other things into account. Doctor Marcoh has strong ties to the Ishvalan Civil War, and deserted at its conclusion. Common sense dictates one of the last places he'd want to hide would be anywhere connected to Ishval, so a place connected to Ishval is likely where we'll find him. I believe he's in the Eastern region, in a place tied to Ishval. Furthermore, the Eastern forces played the largest role in the civil war, and are mainly stationed in East City, so I think Doctor Marcoh is hiding in an average sized town along one of the railroads leading through East City that travels to or through one of the places the Ishvalans struck during the war. Perhaps not in one of the residential areas they targeted itself, but at the least in one of the towns on a railway connected to a place they targeted."

Roy smiled. That _was_ a help. "I'll dispatch soldiers to search the towns and cities along those railroads as soon as I can."

"That would be my advice.

"How goes the flashpoint in Liore?"

"Fullmetal threw down the supposed 'priest' yesterday. He wasn't in on the plot, but he had ambitions of his own. I deployed soldiers to relocate the citizens of Liore out of the town last night. If all goes well, Liore will be evacuated by the end of today, tomorrow at the latest."

"Then things are off to a good start, perhaps especially if I've already found Doctor Marcoh. Let's hope it stays that way, and your ruse keeps Bradley off our scent."

"Indeed."

But they both knew it was extremely unlikely that would happen. It was a military truism no plan survived contact with the enemy.

The question wasn't if things were going to go wrong, but 'what' and 'when.'

.

"Congratulations on a job well done in Liore, Fullmetal," Mustang spoke.

Ed scowled where he stood in front of the Colonel's desk with Al at his left. He didn't want to hear that from the Colonel after what he'd been through in Liore, and what he and Al had done to Rose.

"It's a shame Cornello's Stone broke," Mustang continued. "We might have been able to learn things that would help us if we'd studied it. But no matter. If it comes to that we know where to acquire a Stone."

"Has the evacuation started?" Al asked.

"Yes," the Colonel replied. Ed suppressed the urge to cringe. The concept they were saving the people of Liore, saving _Rose_ , by using the same tactics Cornello had made him even more uncomfortable now.

"So now we wait," Edward said back, hoping he wasn't betraying that the concept of them becoming fugitives was also worrying him much more now than before. He had another possible lead to how he could get Al's body back. He could afford to lose access to the military's alchemic research even less now.

"While we do," Alphonse spoke up, "There's something new we'd like to research."

" _What did you think of that Chimera?" Ed questioned._

 _Al turned his head to face his brother where he sat next to Edward on the train seat. "I thought the transmutation was sloppy, but done well nevertheless. Cornello reconstructed that thing out of at least four animals, and even though the fusion wasn't done right, that's something to be praised."_

 _"I agree," Ed said. "There are layers to Chimera alchemy we know nothing about. It makes me wonder…"_

 _"Wonder what?" Al questioned._

 _"Whether it's the key to restoring our bodies."_

 _Al shifted in a way Edward had learned years ago meant he was a little excited, and most of Edward's strength vanished. Ed did let himself fall against the back of the train seat this time. He did nothing but sit there and breathe. Al had succeeded, to an extent, in convincing himself they could regain their bodies._

 _"That's a good idea," Alphonse responded. "Let's give it a shot."_

"Which is?" the Colonel questioned.

"Chimera alchemy," Ed interjected. "As we might not be able to use the Philosopher's Stone, we need to spend more time investigating other methods of performing biological transmutation, and Cornello's Chimera is evidence the field of Chimera alchemy is more promising than we'd thought."

"Then it sounds to me you need to talk to a specialist." As Mustang responded, he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a piece of paper.

Edward's eyes widened slightly. "There are specialists in that field?"

"There's one I'm aware of," Mustang spoke back. "One you'll have no problem approaching." He looked down at the piece of paper. "Shou Tucker, the Sewing Life Alchemist." A _State Alchemist_ who specialized in Chimera alchemy? Ed hadn't believed he'd hear that. "He's performed a great deal of research into the transmutation of Chimeras, and obtained his State Alchemist certification by creating one.

"He's currently stationed here in East City. I'll introduce you."

Alphonse started, and Edward jolted. "You're joking," Al's voice was very skeptical. "You'd do that for us?"

Ed shared his brother's skepticism. Mustang had expressed concern for them helping him launch the coup, but that didn't give him any reason to extend them the kindness of introducing them to another State Alchemist. "Don't play me for a moron," Ed didn't give Mustang time to say anything in return. "What are you up to?"

The Colonel sighed. "I believe you told me you would give me the time of day from now on."

Edward crossed his arms. "I said I wouldn't run off. That's all. I never said I'd take everything you have to tell me at face value."

Mustang rubbed his forehead. "If you must know, I want to repay you for your efforts during the McDougal case. You deserve as much kindness as you can get in your world now. I'm not up to anything." Edward was surprised at the surge of gratitude and longing that consumed him, and again he was aware how much he ached, and he felt as exhausted as he had yesterday. He realized he wanted that kindness, so badly he couldn't express it. The words of kindness and comfort his brother had given him since the night McDougal had revealed the truth about the nation weren't anywhere close to enough.

One of the last things Ed had believed he'd see from the Colonel, a sad and understanding plea, appeared in his eyes. "Let me do this for you."

Ed looked away, his first impulse to refuse. It didn't matter how much he wanted kindness. He still needed to be strong and tough even though he was unwilling to carry his agony better, or he _would_ be knocked off his legs. That meant even now there were limits to the kindness he could accept, and Alphonse was brushing those limits.

Additionally, this was _Mustang_.

But Al needed as much kindness in his reality as he could more than Ed did.

.

Mustang sat across from them in the back as a military police officer drove them down a street in East City, looking at a number of papers on a clipboard.

"Two years ago," the Colonel told them, "Tucker was given his certification for transmuting a Chimera that could understand human speech and speak in a human tongue as well."

Al gasped. "It could talk like a human?"

He shared a glance with Edward, and Ed forced a slight smile. This surprise was pleasant. It was evidence they might be on the right track of an alternative method. He was also curious about the Chimera, and it was nice to know he could still be curious about an alchemical construct after what McDougal had spoken of to them.

"What things did it say?" Edward inquired. "Did it have a human intellect, or did it just talk about the things other animals know, such as food and shelter?"

"It said one thing," the Colonel responded. "'I want to die.'" Ed's eyes widened and his stomach twisted violently, an extremely unpleasant suspicion entering his mind. If he hadn't known how the Philosopher's Stone was transmuted he was aware he'd never have thought about it, but because he did know, the possibility was too great. "It refused to eat or drink anything, and died of starvation."

"Colonel," Al's voice was horrified, "Do you think…?"

There was no need to finish.

"I had my suspicions," Mustang spoke, "And I investigated Tucker quietly. But my investigations turned up nothing. His wife purportedly left them around the same time as he transmuted the Chimera, but I obtained a number of eyewitness reports they had been arguing vehemently and frequently before she vanished and his wife even struck Tucker several times in public. It's very possible he didn't transmute his wife, and his story of her leaving them is the truth. In addition, Tucker has been living with his daughter since then, and nothing happened to her the next year when his annual State Alchemist Assessment came around. None of that is proof Tucker _didn't_ combine a human with an animal, but there's no proof he _did_."

"For his sake," Edward snarled, clenching his automail fist, "He better not have. After particular other people and Cornello, I've had more than my fill of amoral alchemists. If he transmuted his wife or someone else, I'll make him wish he'd never been born."

"If you discover he committed a crime," Mustang corrected him, his voice hard, "You'll follow proper military protocol and arrest him with due restraint. Don't forget, Fullmetal. You're a military officer with a rank equivalent to a Major, with all the responsibilities that entails."

Ed clenched his teeth. He wanted to argue unless Tucker was involved with the government, there was no reason to hold back if he was guilty of anything, but if Ed gave Mustang reason to believe he wouldn't conduct himself properly, Mustang might refuse to allow them to meet Tucker. Additionally, Ed knew he was looking for someone to beat up since he hadn't been able to punch the stuffing out of Cornello. What the fake priest had done to Rose still made him burn with fury.

"Fine," Ed grated.

.

Ed hadn't believed Tucker's house would be the size it was. It was a tall and long structure composed of, among other things, red and white brick, not large enough to be a mansion but still an impressive size nonetheless.

Edward, standing on the front walkway, looked up at it as Mustang rang the bell pulley. "Tucker's definitely put his funding to good use," he remarked. "This place is huge."

A shadow fell atop him.

Edward's eyes widened at the great white dog in the air above him, and then it, far more solid and furry, fell atop him, sending him crashing to the walkway on his stomach. He hissed through clenched teeth. Why couldn't things like this happen at _convenient_ times for once!?

He heard the sound of one of Al's hands separating over the panting of the dog, and then Al asked, "Want this?"

There was the sound of a door opening, and then a little girl giggling.

"No, no." Ed raised his head to see a small girl clad in a red shirt and blue pants with brown hair in pigtails and blue eyes standing in the opening of the door. "Alexander doesn't understand how to play fetch with a hand itself." As she talked a male in a light brown coat and white pants with short brown hair, glasses, and stubble walked up behind her.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Nina," he reproved her. "The polite thing to do is to tell Alexander to get off our smaller," Edward's eyebrow twitched, and he didn't know whether to be relieved he still cared about his height or enraged at the newest insult to it, "guest, not to tell the person in armor how to play with him."

'Nina' looked at Ed apologetically. "I'm sorry. Alexander, walk." The dog got up and strode off Edward. "Alexander, sit."

Alexander obeyed.

The male, no doubt Shou Tucker, looked at the Colonel and smiled. "It's been a long time, Colonel. What brings you here today?"

.

Books, rolled up papers, drawers with papers inside, boxes, and more lay in groups throughout the kitchen, and the sink was filled with dirty dishes and dirty water.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Tucker apologized. "This place has been a wreck since my wife ran out." Ed hoped he was keeping his expression regular. "I'm not much of a housekeeper." He placed a cup of coffee on a plate with a spoon before Ed and sat down across from them, folding his hands and smiling, eyes closed. "So, now that we're all settled in let me say this: It's a pleasure to meet you two young men. As the Colonel has told you I'm Shou Tucker, the Sewing Life Alchemist."

Mustang gestured at Edward. "Edward is interested in the subject of biologic alchemy. He would like to have a look at your research if that's possible."

"Oh, yes, certainly, you can see it," Tucker addressed Ed. "However, if you want to see the tricks I've got up my sleeve, it's just right you show me the tricks you've got up yours as well. It's the code we live by; Equivalent Exchange. Now, why are you interested in bio alchemy?"

"I apologize," the Colonel spoke back, "but Edward's secrets touch upon–"

"I'm willing to tell him," Ed interrupted, and if Mustang was shocked or surprised, he didn't show it. Ed knew telling Tucker was risking being court martialed, but there was clearly no way around it, and with the Philosopher's Stone a doubtful solution, he and Al had to take as many risks as necessary, within reason, researching other alchemy.

Edward looked at Al, and Al nodded in acquiescence.

Ed turned back to Tucker. "You shouldn't call them 'tricks,'" he began. "You should call them 'failures we had coming to us.'"

And he told Tucker; about the human transmutation meant to restore life to his mother that had cost Ed his left leg and Al his body, mind, and soul, and the second human transmutation where Ed had exchanged his right arm and just been able to save Al's soul by doing so. He didn't talk about the Philosopher's Stone, however. He said he and Al had been looking for ways to get their bodies back and they'd discovered on their last assignment the Chimera field of biological alchemy could do more with biology than they'd believed it could.

"Do you know if it's possible?" Ed questioned Tucker, who was listening in quiet surprise. "Do you know if the tenets of Chimera alchemy can be applied to humans for more than giving an animal the ability to understand human speech and talk in human words?" He watched Tucker closely as he asked this, looking for any sign he'd transmuted a human.

But all Tucker did was frown, telling Ed the Sewing Life Alchemist knew Edward didn't trust him.

"If it can," Tucker responded, "I haven't discovered the means." Ed clenched his teeth, but that reply, and the necessity for them to uncover if it could be done on their own, were what he'd believed he'd find out. "In addition, if you know about the Chimera that understood human speech you must know the poor creature had an instinctive loathing of its form, refused to sustain itself, and died." A lie, or the truth? "The Chimera was enough of a success I was given my position, but I myself wouldn't call it a success. Nevertheless, someone bright enough to set up a human transmutation at the age of eleven might discover things I haven't. Why don't you boys have a look at my laboratory?"

He stood up, gesturing for the three of them to follow him, and when the others rose he led them down multiple hallways to two double doors of iron and wood. He opened them and gestured for Edward and Alphonse to enter.

Inside, Chimeras and components of living beings floated in jars and vials, or were imprisoned in cages, none of them with transmutation markings on them anywhere Edward could see. One of the Chimeras in the cages had three heads, and another Chimera in a cage had two. Ed whistled, truly impressed this time. He hadn't known Chimera alchemy could transmute a Chimera with more than one of the body parts it possessed in nature.

"Whoa," Al spoke, looking at the Chimera with three heads. "This is amazing."

Tucker smiled self-deprecatingly. "You think so? I'm known in the military at large as the authority on Chimeras, but the truth is, I'm not as good as I'm given credit for. I was barely able to learn how to transmute a Chimera with multiple heads in time to pass my last assessment, and I was told it was barely sufficient. That tells me the military employs alchemists who are better at transmuting Chimeras than I am.

"Now, come this way. I'll show you my library too."

He led them to another room nearby, opened the doors, and turned on the lights, revealing a sizeable array of wooden bookshelves stacked with books.

Familiar excitement rose, and for the first time since McDougal had told them the truth about Amestris, Edward gave a genuine smile. Apparently his interest in alchemy hadn't been lessened much, if at all, by the Freezer's revelations.

"So you like it, eh?" Tucker questioned. "In that case, feel free to have a look around. This library is at your disposal for as long as we're working together.

"But please, do me the favor of trusting me. I'm sure Mustang told you how I obtained my certification, so I assume that's why you're wary of me. But there's no reason for you to be. I'm aware why the suicide of a Chimera who understood human speech would raise questions in your head, but I didn't do anything more by transmuting it than any other devoted scientist would do."

That was what worried Ed, now that he knew what that devotion could entail.

.

Wrath, better known to the people of Amestris as Fϋhrer King Bradley, picked up the ringing phone on his office desk.

"We have a real problem now." His older sister's voice was nothing but a mask, hiding her thoughts and feelings, and Wrath experienced a surge of concern. She didn't hide them this much unless something was troubling her deeply.

"Should I take it something happened in Liore?" the Homunculus questioned. "Something worse than someone catching Envy shifting into Cornello's form, and you and Gluttony being unable to prevent that person from telling others?"

"You should," his sister spoke back. "It's much worse than that. Soldiers from the Eastern Command Center arrived in Liore this morning, and convinced the people of Liore to evacuate the town before Envy arrived." Wrath's eyes went wide at all the things that meant. He didn't inquire why this was bothering his sister so much, though. This wasn't the time, and he knew she'd let one of them know if she wanted to talk about it. "They warned the townsfolk Cornello's transmutations had released toxins into the air and Liore is no longer safe to live in, and as angry as the townspeople are at Cornello, they believed the soldiers almost without exception. Gluttony and I are doing our best to raise doubts the military can be trusted, but we've had very little success, and the people have begun to depart. Envy's here now, but at the speed things are progressing we're not going to have time to foment the riots, so if he poses as Cornello that may be counterproductive. It might be harder for us to settle new people in Liore if a possible criminal is leading those who remained. Additionally, even if you recall the soldiers, the townsfolk are so convinced the toxins are real they'll likely leave on their own.

"I'm loathe to admit it, but for the first time since Father set his plans in motion, it looks like it's happened. We've genuinely been outmaneuvered by humans, and at a critical component of our plans. We're going to have to postpone carving the crest of blood into Liore."

To his surprise, while fury did flood him, Wrath also felt one of the last things he would have believed he'd feel at news like this.

Interest.

Every time someone or multiple people had knowingly or unknowingly caused them difficulty before, one of the other Homunculi or Wrath himself had eliminated him, her, or them. Occasionally Father himself had lethally neutralized the troublemaker or troublemakers. By this point Wrath had come to believe the humans didn't have the slightest chance of saving themselves from the destiny Father had foreordained for them when he'd founded Amestris.

And now, one year before the Promised Day, the humans had done the unimaginable. They'd outwitted the Homunculi, and not just outwitted them, but had dealt them their first true setback since Father had conceived his plan. They wouldn't be able to inscribe the crest of blood on Liore for a good amount of time now.

Much, _much_ worse, they might not be able to carve the crest of blood into Liore before the solar eclipse occurred now. They might have to delay the Promised Day for years, if not decades.

It was utterly infuriating, but it was also interesting.

Even, Wrath had to admit to himself, at least a little, if not more, fascinating.

But there were far more important things to think about now than Wrath's surprising interest in what had happened.

They both knew who was responsible for this, and why.

"I'll deal with Mustang," Wrath responded. "And inform Father and Pride. What are you going to do?" He extremely highly doubted he needed to query.

"I'm returning to Central with Gluttony and Envy," she replied. "Father will want all of us, except Sloth, to gather for a meeting and decide how to salvage this." She didn't add 'if it can be salvaged,' but Wrath knew she was as aware of the possibility they couldn't fix this in time for the currently scheduled Promised Day as he was. "We'll get a head start on obeying his will."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Wrath spoke back. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," his sister replied, and the phone clicked.

Wrath dialed a number, and when the line picked up, commanded, "This is Fϋhrer Bradley. Put me through to Colonel Mustang at once."

The person on the other end, a male secretary, was obviously surprised at who his caller was. "O-Of course, sir."

Seconds passed, there was another click, and then Mustang's voice, sounding so calm and unworried no one who didn't know what was unfolding would have had reason to believe it wasn't an act, greeted, "This is Colonel Mustang. This is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor of receiving a private call from you, sir?"

Wrath wanted to place Mustang under arrest without delay, but he wasn't stupid. This line could be tapped, and someone could be recording this conversation to use anything incriminating in it to foment a coup. Wrath had to be careful of his own words.

"I hear you deployed troops from Eastern Command to relocate the people of Liore from the town," he said, and he didn't have to fake his anger. "You'd better have a good reason for such a capricious and irresponsible use of our soldiers. If you don't, you can consider yourself court martialed."

"You heard?" Mustang didn't sound at all nervous, just surprised.

"I had undercover agents in Liore investigating the so-called 'priest' myself," Wrath responded. "They informed me of your arbitrary actions."

"Oh, good," Mustang sighed in relief. "Then you may already know."

Wrath wished his Ultimate Eye allowed him to see into people's minds, so he would know what farce Mustang was about to spin for him without having to hear it. "Know what?" he questioned.

"Do you remember Freezer's infiltration of Central last week?" Mustang asked.

"Of course," Wrath replied cordially. "What does that have to do with this?"

"It turns out Freezer meant no ill to you or the government," Mustang spoke back. "He was pretending to be a threat to you to draw me out. He wanted to meet with the Hero of Ishval and _save_ your administration, not harm it."

Mustang was admitting he'd met with the Freezer. Wrath had to admit something himself, to himself; he was slightly impressed. Whatever lie Mustang was crafting, it was a good one.

"So you met secretly with a known fugitive and didn't inform me?" Wrath asked, his tone making it crystal clear Mustang was in much more trouble now.

Mustang sighed. "Please, hear me out, sir. If you consider me guilty of treason once you have I'll turn myself in to the court martial office at your command, but please, hear me out first. I didn't inform you because I doubted you'd believe me and would order me to let the matter lie, and if you did that could have been disastrous. This nation could have become embroiled in another civil war."

Wrath could arrest Mustang now without incriminating himself – although he didn't believe for an instant Mustang would do as he'd said and turn himself in – but it would look better on any recording of this conversation if he played the trusting Fϋhrer. "Very well. Say your piece."

Mustang sighed again, in relief. "Thank you for your generosity, sir. I'll remember it in the future.

"I can assure you to the best of my ability neither I nor Freezer are traitors. The real traitor is a General in High Command, but, though Freezer has worked tirelessly since his resignation to discover the identity of this traitor, we don't yet know who it is. As you undoubtedly recall, the Ishvalan Civil War broke out when one of our soldiers shot a young Ishvalan boy. Freezer chanced upon evidence this shooting was not accidental. It was ordered by the General in High Command, who Freezer has found evidence is a spy and saboteur for Aerugo. Aerugo desired to weaken Amestris by embroiling it in a civil war, and the General orchestrated the Ishvalan Civil War as their means of doing this. This was why Freezer resigned; he felt he could better serve his nation by working with people opposed to your administration as he strove to uncover who the traitor is, rather than continue to serve in a military that could be so easily made to dance to an enemy nation's whims.

"He recently learned the traitor might be fomenting another civil war in Liore by using a false priest to incite rebellion under the guise of a holy crusade, and infiltrated Central to get in touch with me and alert me of this. I'm sure you doubt the Fullmetal Alchemist's loyalty now, as well, so let me assure you the Fullmetal Alchemist's meeting with me the last night McDougal was seen was to set up a meeting between Freezer and I. Freezer delivered his warning to me, and also alerted me the traitor had numerous contingency plans in case the priest failed, so I took the liberty of depopulating Liore. I'm deeply sorry for taking such drastic action without consulting you, but as you can see, if you'd ordered me to do nothing Amestris could have fallen into chaos again.

"There's one more vital piece of information I have for you. During the Ishvalan War of Extermination, Freezer was given an alchemic catalyst purported to be the mythological Philosopher's Stone, transmuted in the now-abandoned Laboratory Five." Wrath blinked. _Was_ this a lie after all? Mustang had to know revealing he knew about Laboratory Five would cost him crucial evidence he could use to unseat Wrath, so perhaps Mustang was being honest. Or perhaps he was sacrificing Laboratory Five as a source of evidence to try to convince Wrath this wasn't a lie. Uncertain now, Wrath again wished he could see into people's minds with the Ultimate Eye. "However, Freezer found evidence this was another of the traitor's deceptions; the traitor supplied the military with falsified information on how to create the Stone so they'd develop a weapon that would escalate the war and further weaken Amestris. If you want to find evidence of the General's treason, Laboratory Five would be a good place to start.

"That's all I have to say. Shall I turn myself in, sir?"

Wrath wanted to say 'yes.' If this was a lie, Mustang was the greatest threat the Homunculi had faced in their lives with the exception of Van Hohenheim. It was too dangerous to allow Mustang to live.

But Mustang was an exceptionally skilled Colonel, and the Fullmetal Alchemist, who Mustang claimed had arranged the meeting between Mustang and the Freezer, was the only alchemist they knew for sure they could use as a sacrifice. Executing either of them, or both of them, would inconvenience Father in their own ways, and they couldn't afford any other inconveniences now. Especially with a serial killer targeting State Alchemists and skilled enough to murder Brigadier General Grand on the loose.

Wrath would have to risk it. Leaving Mustang alive was a risk, but killing him was a certain setback. The same was true of the Fullmetal Alchemist. If Mustang was being dishonest, letting the two of them live meant taking the chance one or both of them would alert the public of why Father had founded Amestris, but that was a small chance. If they'd been going to alert the public, they would have done it by now. If Mustang was lying, he didn't intend to endanger Father's goal through making the nationwide transmutation circle general knowledge.

"No," Wrath replied. "You've given me no reason to distrust you, or the Fullmetal Alchemist. But consider yourself on probation. I'm going to keep you under close watch from now on, and the Fullmetal Alchemist in addition. Further, your story does not exonerate the Freezer. Should he attempt to arrange another meeting with you, you are to arrest him, and kill him if necessary if he resists. This is a direct order. If I discover you have failed to do so, you and Edward Elric will be placed under arrest. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Mustang responded professionally.

"That will be all, then. See that you don't prove my trust in you misplaced."

"I will not, sir," Mustang replied.

"I hope not," Wrath spoke back.

He hung up the phone and stood up, turning in the direction of the secret entrance to the underground complex where Father lived. It was time to deliver the bad news.

.

Edward looked up from where he sat in the middle of stacks of books, his eyes on a section in a book that discussed how to fuse a warm-blooded mammal with a cold-blooded reptile without damaging the resulting Chimera's ability to regulate its own body temperature and his mind once again endeavoring to figure out why the Fϋhrer wanted a special Philosopher's Stone of such incredible size, at the sound of laughter.

He walked around the corner of a bookshelf to see Alphonse walking in place, laughing and holding a laughing Nina on his shoulder as she held onto Al's head, her eyes closed.

Ed's eyes widened, and he didn't dare to breathe.

Al was _laughing_ , and nothing about it sounded forced.

Edward had fallen asleep while reading. He must have. There was no other explanation for this.

He rolled up his left sleeve, seized the skin on it in his automail hand, and twisted it hard. It hurt, and that meant one thing.

This was real.

Impossibly, inexpressibly wonderfully, this was real.

A true smile on his face, a lightness inside him that hadn't been there for a week, Ed walked forward. "What are you so happy about, Al?"

Al turned to face him, continuing to walk in place. "I'm playing with Nina. Do you want to join us?"

Regularly, Edward would have refused. They were supposed to be researching how to get their bodies back. That meant they didn't have time to goof around.

But that didn't matter when Al was laughing, actually laughing, actually _happy_ , for the first time since the night that had once more turned their lives upside down. _That_ was what mattered; that Al was laughing and happy. At present, Ed could have known it was certain there was no way to get their bodies back if they didn't finish researching biologic alchemy within the hour and it wouldn't have meant as much as Al's laughter.

Ed reached Al and Nina. "Sure." He turned his smile to Nina, making it as soft as he could. "Do you want me to carry you now?"

Nina opened her eyes and looked down at him. "Nuh-uh," she shook her head. "You're not tall enough." Edward's eyebrow twitched, and an evil idea came to him. "I want to stay up here!"

"You're sure about that, huh?" Edward moved his the palms of his hands toward each other, about to clap them and transmute a pole with a basket swing on the end out of his automail arm and cloak he'd use to lift up Nina and swing her around in the air near the ceiling, safe and delighted but given what was coming for her, when a shadow fell over him.

He sighed. He'd let it slide this time.

He turned and leapt up, grabbing Alexander in a tackle and sending the large dog to the floor with _Ed_ on top of _him_ , on top of Alexander's front torso, and then rubbed his fingers through the dog's front torso fur. "Betcha' didn't see that coming, did ya', big guy? Huh, huh?"

Alexander panted, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling out, and then lunged up, licking Edward from his forehead to his chin. Ed suppressed the urge to grimace and continued to rub the dog's front torso fur, pretending to be trying to push it back down, then fell back and let Alexander fall on top of him.

"I guess you did," he mock-groaned. He couldn't believe he was about to say the next words he was going to speak, but Al needed every ray of happiness he could get. "You're all big and tough and ready for anything, aren't you, unlike a wimpy little midget like me?"

Nina laughed, and Ed found himself smiling at it. There was an innocence and a carefreeness in that laughter he hadn't known for years, and it made him ache. Hearing it, he could believe he _was_ running barefoot across the green grass in Resembool with Al and Winry under cerulean skies, and everything that had happened since Mom's collapse _was_ a dream.

But he wasn't, and Nina's innocence, too, would be snuffed out all too soon if he couldn't defeat the Fϋhrer.

Still, it was enough he could believe reality was a kinder place again, and their ruined bodies and human transmutation and the Fϋhrer and High Command and the Philosopher's Stone's ingredient and Rose and everything else were the memories of a nightmare he'd had years ago, and that meant more to him than he was capable of putting into verbal or nonverbal language.

He moved his head up to rest his chin on Alexander's snout, and looked up at Nina. "But you're the littlest _and_ the strongest of all of us, because you're Alexander's boss. So would you please deign to come down from your lofty perch looking down on us meager mortals and save poor suffering me?"

Nina giggled, and released Alphonse's head with one hand to point at Alexander. "No, Alexander. Bad dog. Walk." Alexander rose and walked backwards off Ed. "Sit."

Alexander did.

"Thank you," Edward got to his feet and gave her a low, grandiose bow.

Nina giggled. "You're welcome."

"So what do you want to do now?" Al questioned Nina. "Do you want to stay up there, or should we do something else?"

"I want to know why you were able to take your hand off," she responded.

"That?" Al sounded like he didn't know what to say. "How should I put this?"

Ed straightened. "Tell her the truth, Al," he spoke back. Then he climbed on Alexander's back, scratching behind the dog's ears, and began, "Once upon a time, in the village of Resembool, a farming village with green grass and hills from which you could see breathtaking views for miles, there lived the Elric brothers. The older brother, Edward Elric, had one wish: To be taller. But the wish of the younger brother, Alphonse Elric, was to be a knight in the shiniest armor the world had yet seen."

.

"But the Automail Fairy Winry said, sorrow in her tone, 'I don't know how to make armor, just automail. The best I can do is turn your entire body into armor. Does that sound like an okay alternative? I can't promise you'll be shiny, but you'll be a knight _of_ armor as opposed to a knight _in_ armor. That sounds promising, right?'

"Alphonse gasped and cried in delight, 'You bet! Please, Your Highness, make me a knight of armor right now!'

"The Automail Fairy smiled and responded, 'It will be my pleasure.' She waved her wrench wand, Alphonse glowed with a brilliant golden light the likes of which this world has never seen, and when the light cleared, Alphonse was the suit of armor you see before you now.

"But Edward, though he now had an automail leg and an automail arm, still wasn't any taller. So, at Winry's advice, the brothers set out on a new journey: To find the Alchemist Fairy who could increase Ed's height.

"And so together, the two brothers set off into the Sunset, leaving Resembool behind for the great wide world. The End."

By now, Alexander was once more lying on top of Ed, who was on his stomach. Nina was curled up against Alexander, listening raptly, and Alphonse was sitting behind her, holding his left armor hand out in front of her for her to look at.

"Do you have any clues where you can find the Alchemist Fairy yet, Ed?" Nina asked sleepily. Ed tried to think of an answer, but Alexander's warmth was lulling him, and he'd relaxed, and he hadn't been aware how much he needed to relax after what McDougal had told them. He shook his head rapidly, waking himself up; he needed to create an answer, for the sake of Nina's wonderful smiles and laughter and carefreeness and innocence as much as for Al, for the sake of giving her more to smile and laugh about.

Al answered first. "That's why we're here. We heard your Daddy might have discovered her whereabouts in his research."

Nina gasped in delight. "Really!?"

A voice coughed behind them, and Ed clenched his teeth. Reality _was_ a kinder place once again now, because Nina was in it, and he didn't want to leave that kindness behind. He didn't want to go back to the harder, hideous reality.

But he had to face the Truth, and he had responsibilities.

He sighed and crawled out from under Alexander, standing up and turning to face Mustang.

"Things have developed faster than I'd believed they would," Mustang informed him. "We need to talk. I came in my car."

Edward suppressed a surge of unease. Were they fugitives now?

"But–" Nina began.

"Don't worry," Al cut her off, moving his unattached hand over her head and rubbing her head with it. She giggled. "We'll be back to play tomorrow morning."

Ed knew Al meant it, and promised the same thing himself inside his mind. They'd play with Nina one more time tomorrow even if they had to go on the run.

.

"Bradley had agents in Liore. He was alerted I have forces conducting an evacuation today."

Ed tensed where he sat in the back seat of the moving car, but questioned the most pressing thing first. "Did he order the evacuation halted or the town spared?"

"He didn't order me to halt it," Mustang spoke back, "And from what an officer there told me after the Fϋhrer phoned me, he didn't order anyone there to stop. I assume it's because, from what I've heard, the people bought my story about the toxins enough they're willing to leave by themselves. Nor did he order anyone not to level the town; I assume that's because he doesn't know we intend to."

Ed sighed in relief.

"What about us?" Al asked. "Are we under arrest?"

"No," the Colonel replied, and Ed felt more tension than he'd believed he was experiencing drain out of him. "My story cast enough doubt on my motives. He's going to watch us, but we won't need to run yet."

"Thank goodness," Al said.

Something new worried Edward, however. "Will you be able to burn Liore, now?"

"I believe so," the Colonel responded. "It's plausible I could be burning it for the same reasons I relocated its citizens, so it will give the Fϋhrer further reason to distrust me, but nothing any more definite than he has now. I feel we should be able to get away with it."

"Good," Alphonse replied.

"So what now?" Edward questioned.

"Hughes has an idea where Doctor Marcoh is," the Colonel responded, and Edward's eyes widened. "Apparently the military's searched for him extensively in places that don't see a lot of traffic for years and haven't found him, so Hughes believes he's hiding in plain sight. Meaning, he's hiding in a town on a major railway in the East connected to East City and somewhere the Ishvalans struck during the civil war, if not in an actual town the Ishvalans struck."

"What does Doctor Marcoh look like?" Ed asked. "The Ishvalans attacked Resembool when I was younger because Resembool produces cloth for Amestrian soldier uniforms. Maybe he's hiding in Resembool."

"Wouldn't that be ironic?" the Colonel questioned rhetorically. "Assuming he hasn't changed his appearance, according to Major Armstrong, he's short, with mostly black hair that's white over his ears, in his sixties, and has one of the versions of wide girth you get without overeating. Does that sound familiar?"

"Not at all," Edward replied disappointedly. "My automail mechanic hasn't told me of anyone like that moving in to Resembool since we left, as well."

"It was worth a try," the Colonel responded. "Anyway, I've dispatched soldiers to search the cities and towns Hughes thinks Marcoh could be in. We'll wait around a week to give them time to look. Our next move will depend on the results of the search in that time, and, if it's successful, what Marcoh can tell us.

"Or do you have an idea, Fullmetal?"

Edward's eyes went wide. Mustang was asking him for a plan?

Ed smirked and crossed his hands behind his head, kicking his feet onto the back of the chair in front of him and leaning back. "If I think of something, I'll let you know. Just don't run out when I'm telling you what it is. I guarantee it won't be a waste of your time."

"Very funny," the Colonel responded sarcastically.

.

If Pride had been capable of feeling any emotion other than the sin he was named after, he would have been burning with humiliation and anger now. As it was, he was burning with _something_ , and whatever it was, if he could have disliked it, he would have.

Intensely.

They knew everything there was to know about humans. Their pettiness; their inability to accept reality; the blind and useless nobility a minority of them possessed; the tendency of the majority of them to cling to any candle, whatever its nature, until it left them more scorched than any moth could become; their ingratitude to their parents; their bodily and personal weakness; how frequently they took the easy way out of adversity; everything. The Homunculi had watched the humans struggle over trinkets, build culture and civilization just to tear it down, rebuild it, rip it apart again, and then rebuild it once more as if things would be different this time. Everything he'd seen of the human body and the human personality had reinforced his knowledge of what Father had told him humans were; beneath them, just worthy of their attention to be raised as livestock Father could harvest to transmute his mammoth Philosopher's Stone.

So how in the name of hydrogen could a human have truly fouled up hundreds of years of delicately careful planning? Pride could believe they'd underestimated the humans – blindly noble humans had proven themselves unexpectedly resourceful more than once – but even taking that into account, how was it remotely possible a human could have damaged over three hundred fifty years of painstaking effort?

The five of them stood in a partial semi-circle before the dais on which Father's throne rested, and Father was sitting in his throne and looking at them with an unreadable expression on his face. If the revelation they'd failed to carve one of the crests of blood and the Promised Day might have to be delayed years or decades into the future had hurt their immortal sire, there was no way to tell.

At last Father queried, "Do you have anything else to tell me?"

Pride clenched his teeth. "Yes. The humans reduced Liore to rubble."

His sister looked at him, face still the mask it had been since they'd reunited earlier today. But Pride didn't care what was bothering his sister. He wasn't capable of caring for others, and even had he been able to feel those ways, he wouldn't have let himself. Caring for his siblings would interfere with his responsibility towards Father.

"How do you know this?" she questioned, her tone still a mask too.

"One of the human soldiers destroying Cornello's church took a boat across the toxic waterway and used bombs to blast down the rock beyond to see if there were any hidden rooms behind it," Pride spoke back. "He found the nationwide transmutation circle, and I interrogated him about what was happening before I killed him. Early this morning, Liore was mostly wiped off the map."

Envy swore and morphed his right arm into its large, true shape in red light and was about to swing it into the floor and smash a hole in it when a warning look from both Pride and Father stopped him.

Envy returned his arm to his favored humanoid shape for it and said, "Sorry."

"That's not good enough," Pride spoke. "You know how much Father values the integrity of his home. Come and see me after this meeting is over in your true form. A few hours of my shadow body peeling the surface of your flesh off ought to remind you not to forget Father's rules again."

Ordinarily, Envy would have showed fear at the knowledge he was going to undergo a session of one of the forms of Pride's chastisement. But Envy was apparently too livid now to care. "Do me a favor and be creative when you do it," Envy snarled, clenching a fist that was violently shaking with anger. "I don't care if it's pain, I want something to keep my mind off what these… these…" Envy was unable to find a word degrading enough for the humans to finish his sentence, for he trailed off.

"No," Pride responded. "I'm not helping you with anything after you disobeyed Father. I'll punish you a regular way for an ordinary amount of time, and then you're to be on your way."

Envy glared at Pride with teeth ground so hard they appeared they would chip, and then spun away.

"Grow up, Envy," his sister put in, voice still a mask. "I don't want to admit it, but we should have been prepared for this possibility. Even dumb, tame livestock have teeth."

"So, can I eat Mustang?" Gluttony asked Wrath eagerly. "Please tell me I can!"

"You heard his story of why Mustang ruined our plans for Liore," Pride reminded him. "No."

Gluttony gave his sister a pleading look, but she shook her head.

Gluttony looked down at the floor in disappointment.

Pride coughed. "We're wasting Father's time with this chatter." He looked at his parent. "Do you have any ideas what you want us to do to repair this damage, Father?"

Father sighed, and if Pride could have felt disbelief at barely present traces of emotion in it, he would have. He _did_ experience a surge of that thing inside him. The humans _had_ distressed Father. If Mustang turned out to be guilty after all, Pride was personally going to ensure he paid in the most excruciatingly painful ways possible for this, both physical and emotional. Perhaps the Fullmetal Alchemist too. They still had plenty of time to find a replacement sacrifice for him. They could afford to kill him at this time.

Maybe. Assuming they had that time to spare now that they needed to fix the Liore catastrophe.

"I do," Father responded, "But even I have to admit we may not be able to finish executing this plan in the time we have."

Pride experienced a faint flicker of something alien to him. He didn't know why, but there was a part of him that didn't want to see Father uncertain for reasons that had nothing to do with his devotion to his sire.

"It will work, Father," he reassured him. "You're a genius, you know things few, if any, humans do, and you have centuries of experience. Nothing you can think of can go wrong."

Father gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pride."

"You're welcome," Pride replied.

"What is your idea, Father?" Wrath questioned.

"Envy," Father inclined his head to their most temperamental sibling, "I want you to return to Kelyair." He named the city in the northwest of Amestris Envy had been given a position as Mayor of, for the purpose of funneling Wrath, High Command, and their other human pawns the funds they needed for their illegal activities from the public sector businesses Envy oversaw there. "Wrath," Father inclined his head to their youngest brother, "Once Envy has, I want you to announce to the public Liore has been destroyed, freeing up land the government will use to perform an experiment in the interests of improving our economy. That experiment will be for the government to provide any businesses that move their headquarters to the location Liore once stood with massive incentives and all the support they need to stimulate their growth until they can sustain themselves as large companies functioning on a national level. Furthermore, any people who seek employment working for these companies will be given an extensive economic safety net by the government ensuring all their needs are met until the businesses are secure enough to provide for their workers as effectively. Envy, you are to announce you support this venture and encourage the companies you watch over and the people of Kelyair to participate in this experiment. This will hopefully get the supposed experiment started and cause a new large town to spring up where Liore once stood in a matter of months.

"Once the businesses have received enough funding from Wrath, you are to encourage them to rebel against the state, secede, and form a breakaway city-state run by an oligarchy made up of the heads of the companies, one you will convince them will flourish as a center of trade and economic prosperity due to the presence of so many business headquarters and so much wealth in a single location. Wrath, you know what to do when they secede."

"Indeed," Wrath nodded.

"Can we afford to do that?" Envy asked. "If we cut off High Command's funds, they won't be able to continue to transmute their toy soldiers, and might stop cooperating with us."

"There's no need to worry about that," Pride's sister interjected. "Doctor Jackson has finished transmuting the mannequin army, and Doctor Marcoh's research team has completed developing a sufficient amount of Philosopher's Stones we have enough to animate them all and the amount of extras High Command wants in case something goes wrong. We no longer have need of your funding."

Envy sighed in relief. "About time. As much fun as it is bossing around fools and watching them scramble in circles to do my bidding, I'd much rather wash my hands of the lot of them. _Much_ more so now."

"On those lines," their sister questioned, "Would I be right, Father, to assume you want me to dispose of Marcoh's research team, because Mustang knows about Laboratory Five? And Laboratory Five itself as well?"

"Of course," Father responded to her.

"Very well," she replied. "I'll reduce Laboratory Five to rubble and have Marcoh's researchers, the Slicer brothers, and Barry the Chopper transmuted into one last Philosopher's Stone. It could be to our benefit to have a third spare."

"See that you do," Father responded.

"What about Jackson," Pride asked, "Our other researchers, and Wrath's leftovers? Shall I silence them as well to be on the safe side? We've paid the price for underestimating the humans once." Envy glared at Pride at his words they'd underestimated humans, but Pride ignored him. "We can't afford to leave things to chance as much any further."

"We didn't underestimate the humans," Father spoke back, and Pride found himself confused. They'd never imagined a human could thwart them this severely. How could they _not_ have underestimated the humans?

But Father was the wisest and most knowledgeable life form on the planet. If he said they hadn't underestimated the humans, they hadn't underestimated the humans.

"Nevertheless," Father went on, "We weren't on guard for this, so wisdom dictates we should be more on our guard from now on. Silence every researcher but Doctor Jackson. But leave him and Wrath's leftovers alive. Doctor Jackson is still valuable to us as the only alchemist who knows how to activate the failsafe transmutation circle and bring me my sacrifices if we can't acquire them by other means, and Wrath's leftovers may yet have their uses. That will make Jackson the sole alchemist who can study the completed mannequins and the system he's created for infusing them with the Stones, but we should be able to convince High Command we're sure the mannequins and the system will function as intended, and it needs little study."

"I recommend," Pride's sister spoke, "Additionally, Envy not take his favored form outside of Kelyair," Envy scowled, "Or this complex, I keep a low profile, and we try to fake my death as a result of the destruction of the Fifth Laboratory when the populace comes to see what happened to it. As I would die if my Stone could no longer regenerate me."

If Pride could have felt surprise, he would have, but it didn't take him any time to become aware why his sister was recommending she appear to die like a Homunculus would.

"I see your reasoning," Father replied. "If Mustang was lying, he may know about Doctor Marcoh from the Freezer Alchemist, and Doctor Marcoh knows of you and Envy. So you and Envy should be more inconspicuous than you usually are. Furthermore, with Greed out there somewhere, if Mustang discovers you two exist, he may learn about us; so, since you're going to be keeping a low profile, you should appear to have died for good as well if we can make that happen in the hopes Greed hears about it and believes you're no longer alive. Therefore, if he talks to Mustang about us and tells Mustang this, your presence, if Mustang has become aware of it, will return to being a secret.

"Your recommendation is well made. I will transmute a body that looks like you that will disintegrate if too badly damaged. Take it, and if one or more of the guards at the Fifth Laboratory are in its vicinity soon after its collapse, drive pieces of the building into it, and then cause it to fall out of the structure's ruins within their sight as if it was attempting to escape Laboratory Five. If you are able to do this, Wrath, order one of the guards to tell a reporter what he or she saw and pretend he or she is disobeying orders to pursue fame, then have the guard vanish to cause his or her insubordination to perhaps appear more real."

"As you wish," Wrath responded.

"That leaves the Freezer Alchemist. Whether Mustang is deceiving me or not, it's too dangerous to let McDougal live when I can't keep a close watch on him and it's very possible he _does_ know about the nationwide transmutation circle. I recommend releasing the Crimson Alchemist and giving him the task of killing McDougal."

"Are you certain he can be trusted?" Father questioned.

"For the most part," Wrath spoke back. "He murdered five officers to hide his possession of the Philosopher's Stone, but if we support his use of it he should be willing to work for us. As further insurance, I advise we tell Kimblee who we are and our goal."

Father raised his eyebrows in definite curiosity.

"Kimblee is motivated by his devotion to his talents as a killer," Wrath revealed his reasoning. "He believes in being true to the path your talents best enable you to walk. As such, he loves conflict and confrontation. The humans are inconveniencing us with the Promised Day near, and that means there's a conflict between us and them. Kimblee will doubtlessly find witnessing how a conflict ends between two sentient species where one species is attempting to master the other as cattle extremely appealing. Thus, if we tell him our identities and plan, we have an even greater chance of ensuring his loyalty.

"I think it's best we at least take the risk of using him, whether we bring him in on our goal or not. As I'm certain you remember, the Freezer has the other Stone we used on the Ishvalans, and as you and Pride spoke, we need to be more careful from now on. One alchemist with a Philosopher's Stone is our best option for neutralizing another alchemist with a Philosopher's Stone, unless you wish to kill McDougal yourself once we find him."

"McDougal may have cost us Liore," Father responded, "But I have no desire to leave Central and my research for anyone. If the Freezer shows himself in Central again I may expend the time to personally kill him, but otherwise, I'll leave him to you. Release Kimblee as you deem it wise, but do not reveal our identities or my objective to him unless and until he proves himself."

Wrath inclined his own head.

"I'll give him the Philosopher's Stone transmuted from Marcoh's research team as a backup," Pride's sister said. "That will also keep two of our spares close together."

"Good idea," Father spoke to her.

Pride's younger sister inclined her head.

"Aren't we forgetting someone?" Pride interjected. "The serial killer we call 'Scar' is turning out to be a bigger nuisance than we thought he'd be. He defeated Basque Grand, and that makes him a serious enough problem we should take as few chances as we can with him as well. What should we do about him?"

"Take Gluttony and hunt him down yourself, Pride," Father ordered. "If he is no longer in Central, come up with a convincing reason for Wrath to have Selim take an extended trip. Do whatever it takes to find him and kill him."

Gluttony gave Pride's sister a terrified look at the concept of working with Pride, and, although her face remained a mask, she patted Gluttony on the shoulder. But it must not have reassured his terror the slightest bit, for he didn't ask if he could eat Scar.

Pride nodded. "As you wish, Father."

.

Edward walked up to Tucker's front door with a smile on his face, feeling much better today. He'd woken up much less during the night, and most of his dreams hadn't been nightmares thought couldn't define, but dreams of taking Nina to Resembool and introducing her to Winry and Granny, and hearing her laugh and seeing her smile and look at automail components and around Winry's workroom with awe and wonder.

One day, he hoped, he could truly take her there. He was certain Nina really would love automail and Winry's workshop, and he was certain she'd love Den too.

But would Nina survive, or retain an intact body, and have that chance?

He pushed those thoughts away. He didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to think about Nina smiling and laughing and resting curled up against Alexander, and the kindness that still did exist in this hideous world.

He heard barking and running paws from his right, and turned, opening his arms. "I'm here, boy!" he cried. "Come and get me!"

Alexander obliged, pouncing on Ed and sending him falling on his back on the walkway. Edward laughed and reached up, scratching behind the dog's ears, and then Nina, wearing a pink shirt and tan overalls, ran around the corner with a smile on her face and cried, "The Dog Fairy has come to the rescue!"

She skidded to a halt. "Alexander, walk." Alexander got up and walked off Edward. "Sit." Alexander complied.

She reached out a hand down to Edward, and Ed took it in his left and pushed himself to his feet, then dropped into a sweeping, grand, low boy. "I will be forever grateful to you for once again deigning to fly down from the lofty skies and save me, O' Ruler of the Atmosphere."

Nina laughed. "Are you ready to play?"

"We sure are!" Alphonse cried. "But we'll need to take a break in a few hours to do our research."

Nina frowned sadly. "Oh."

Al knelt down before her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Nothing unusual," Nina responded. "I'd hoped you'd have more time to play with me than Daddy does. He's been so busy with his research lately he doesn't play with me often, and I'd hoped things would be different with you. That's all. But it's okay. I have Alexander, as I did when Mommy left, so I'm just a little bit lonely."

 _Daddy sat in his chair at his desk with his back to the opened door. If he was aware the door was open or Edward and Al, holding onto Ed behind his brother, was looking at him, he gave no sign of it._

Ed winced. "You know what?" he questioned, smiling gently. "Our research can wait a day. We'll play with you the whole time we're here." Nina gasped in disbelief and delight. "Would you like that?"

"For sure!" Nina cried. "Let's play!"

"Then how would you like to watch a horse ride a knight of armor?" Edward questioned.

Nina looked at him confusedly.

Then Alphonse, aware of what Ed had in mind, picked up Alexander, put the dog on his shoulders, and ran across the lawn. Nina cried out in glee and raced after them, and Ed followed.

.

"What's gotten into you, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked, distracting Ed from his transmutation of his automail foot from a bird's claw with a horse's hoof in the center into eight squid legs and bringing Ed's attention to where the Colonel stood inside the front yard. Alexander was lying on top of Al now, panting and wagging his tail as Al rubbed his fingers through the fur on the dog's back. Nina was sitting in front of Ed, where she'd been watching him raptly.

Edward experienced a violent aching wrench of loss, and almost wanted to ask Mustang if they could stay a little longer, but he smiled. "Just reliving the glory days of my youth. A grizzled veteran like you wouldn't understand the need for us greenhorns to remain young and untried as long as possible."

Mustang snorted. "You have no clue what it's like to want to be an inexperienced idealistic rookie again."

"Are you leaving now?" Nina asked, and she couldn't hide her disappointment.

"Yes," Alphonse spoke back. "But we'll see you again tomorrow and we'll play more than. You can be sure of that."

Nina smiled brightly. "I will be!"

.

The skies were gray and overcast the next morning, but that didn't bother Edward as he walked into the Eastern Command Center. He'd never believed it would happen, but he was eager as he and Al walked the hallways of the military base to the Colonel's office.

Mustang was sitting in a chair at the long table in the outer office where Hawkeye, Havoc, Falman, Fuery, and Breda worked, but Hawkeye was the only other officer present, seated in a chair on the opposite side of the table from Mustang and poring over a report.

"I'm sorry to tell you Tucker is unavailable today," Mustang said. "He's due to present the results of his State Alchemist Assessment later, and doesn't have time to receive visitors."

Edward tensed, but he told himself not to worry. Nothing had happened to Nina last year.

" _I was barely able to learn how to transmute a Chimera with multiple heads in time to pass my last assessment, and I was told it was barely sufficient."_

Ed lost the ability to breathe.

 _No. Nonononononono_

"I wouldn't–"

"Oh, yes I _will!_ " Edward shouted, so frantic with terror he was sure he was going to throw up, and Hawkeye looked up. "Remember what Tucker spoke in his lab! He barely passed his assessment last year!" Al gasped in horror and the Colonel's eyes widened. "Nina may be in danger!"

Or it might already be too late. But he couldn't think that. Nina couldn't be transmuted into a Chimera she was part of the kinder reality he'd been ripped away from forever last week she wasn't part of this beyond nightmare of death on an unheard of scale she was separate from it the reality Al and he never should have lost that reality that innocence couldn't be ripped to tatters in someone else not someone as amazing as her she'd lost her mother but she was still smiles and laughter that laughter couldn't be asphyxiated out of existence _please no why hadn't he known the assessment was today why hadn't he taken her back to their apartment with him last night how could things fall apart like this again so soon how for her why for her why for her if it was too late he didn't know a thing he could do to change her back please it was too late for him and Al it couldn't take anyone else this incredible_

"Fullmetal!" The voice was a loud bark, and rough hands seized his shoulders. "Get ahold of yourself!"

Edward became aware Mustang was in front of him, gripping Edward's shoulders, and started shaking violently. But he dug his automail fingers into his left arm until the pain anchored him and nodded.

"Lieutenant." Hawkeye was already standing. "My car."

.

Edward was already clapping as he ran into Tucker's yard, heart pounding so hard he didn't know why it hadn't broken out of his chest, and his hands were extended long before he reached the door and transmuted it into paper in a wash of blue.

He shouldered through it and flew down the hallways toward Tucker's laboratory, ignoring Mustang's cry of, "Let me take the lead!" barely aware of the Colonel and Hawkeye following him or anything but Al behind him as he pleaded desperately he was wrong about Tucker, the other alchemist wasn't willing to use human life as a lab specimen, he was just being overly distrustful, or if he was right about Tucker they weren't too late.

 _This couldn't be happening they were supposed to be preventing anyone from using human life as a laboratory sample again_

He reached the doors to Tucker's laboratory and, ignoring Mustang's cry of, "Exercise restraint!" threw the doors open.

The laboratory was dark save for the light spilling in from the hallway, but it shone on Tucker crouched before a four-legged white furred creature with long brown hair.

Edward staggered to a halt, shaking violently again and trembling violently.

Brown hair.

No. He had to be mistaken.

Tucker looked over at them and smiled. "Why, hello, Edward, Alphonse, Colonel. I didn't think I'd see you today. This is a pleasant surprise."

"Let's hope that's the truth," Mustang responded. "Is that the transmutation you intend to use to try to pass your assessment?"

"That's correct," Tucker spoke back. "Have you come here because you wanted to get an early look at it?"

Ed ignored their conversation, walking over to the Chimera. He knelt next to it, and, barely able to breathe, voice extremely unsteady, queried, "Are you ready to play?"

A deep female human voice responded, "Yes. Let's play."

Tucker cursed, and inside Edward something broke.

There was no rage. He didn't know if there was anything at all. He was too empty for that. Almost all he knew was Nina stood before him twisted into something unnatural she had never been meant to be, as a laboratory sample, as if she was of no greater value than a thing with no mind of its own or the capability to feel pain one could take apart or prod or poke or reconstruct or dissect. Nina, and probably Alexander; he assumed Alexander was the reason the fur was white.

Almost all he knew was, once more, he had utterly no ability to save someone of measureless value, or save someone who had been altered into an abomination, just as he hadn't been able to save Mom and Al.

Almost all he knew was now it was all fully real. He'd seen McDougal's and Cornello's imperfect Philosopher's Stones, but there was something incomprehensibly different about seeing a red marble that didn't even remotely resemble a living or dead form and looking at what Nina and Alexander had become.

This was reality in its true form. Nina's life meant nothing in the flow of the universe, and nor did any other human life.

He looked up at Alphonse to see how he was taking this, saw his brother silently shaking violently, and then turned to Tucker, whose gaze was on Mustang and Hawkeye warily.

"How?" he asked, his voice a broken whisper. "I've heard of alchemists treating humans as specimens before, but I don't understand. How could you do this? Is it because it's easier to experiment on humans than life forms that are different from us?"

Tucker snorted. "How could I do this? As a fellow alchemist, surely you understand. We study the truth and utilize it so society can grow. Human experimentation is an integral reason human civilization has progressed this far. There are too many examples of human experimentation throughout history to name them all. When I fused my wife and daughter with animals, I did but contribute to the advancement of human culture. That's what alchemists do."

"But… why go this far?" Edward whispered. "This is someone's _life_."

Tucker shrugged. "Why not, if that's what it takes to keep my State Alchemist certification? Alchemists alter people's lives all the time. You yourself have altered human life. You placed your brother's soul in an inhuman suit of armor."

" _All those ingredients can be purchased at the nearest convenience store for spare change. As it turns out, humans are pretty cheap."_

Ed flinched violently.

Al walked forward, grabbed Tucker by his collar, and yanked him into the air.

"Alphonse!" the Colonel shouted.

Al ignored him. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, anger in his voice. "Brother put my soul in this armor to preserve my life. You _ruined_ your daughter's. Not much could be more different. Stop comparing Brother to yourself, and stop arguing you did nothing wrong by transmuting Nina and Alexander, or _I'll_ be the one who will lose my temper."

"And then you'll be arrested for assaulting a military officer," the Lieutenant interjected. "Put him down, Alphonse. Now."

Alphonse sighed and dropped Tucker, letting the older State Alchemist fall on his posterior.

"Don't waste your hypocritical morality on me," Tucker spoke, looking up at Al. "You sought to alter human life yourself. You helped your brother attempt to restore your mother to this world. The ultimate act of altering human life." He looked at Mustang. "And you, Mustang. How many Ishvalans did you murder or torture with your Flame Alchemy, thus changing their lives? All four of us are the same. Devotees of science willing to do whatever it takes to improve our lives or sustain them, even if it means interfering with other human life. Arrest me if you must, but don't tell yourself you're any better than I am, or _you_ are justified stripping me of my certification."

"That's enough, Tucker," Mustang replied, voice hard. "Shut up. I'm placing you under house arrest. You are to remain here with Nina until another officer comes to retrieve you."

Tucker sighed in frustration. "Fine. But you haven't heard the last of this. If I'm to lose my status for this, I intend to go out making a mark. When I stand trial, everyone will hear all the evidence history has provided as to why alchemists are Gods in mortal flesh."

Something wrenched loose inside Ed at those words, and he heard laughter it took him several seconds to realize was his own. The laughter built as he recollected his words to Rose in Liore, and he threw his head back and howled up at the ceiling.

Al reached out a hand to him. "Brother?" he questioned fearfully.

Edward ignored him, and continued to howl his laughter at the ceiling, at how insane the sadistic reality was they lived in; at his awareness a father could do this to his daughter without remorse; at how ironic it was the latest field of alchemy they'd thought would save them had turned out to be just as devastating to people as human transmutation and the Philosopher's Stone; at how fleeting the kindness and happiness they'd regained had been; at his knowledge now someone even younger than they had been when they'd lost their bodies had been condemned to an inhuman form perhaps for the rest of her life; at his knowledge he was absolutely powerless to give Nina back her human body; at his knowledge Nina, unlike him and Al, had been utterly guiltless of any sin and the Truth had _still_ reduced her life to ruins.

At last he stopped, although he couldn't prevent a number of last giggles from escaping his mouth, and faced Tucker. "You're wrong," he responded, and he knew for certain it was correct. "We're not Gods. We're not even remotely akin to Gods. All we are are human. Worthless humans who can't even save one innocent little girl."

His left arm felt too heavy to move, but he brought it up anyway and rubbed Nina's hair. "I'm sorry," his voice came out broken again. "We're not skilled enough in alchemy to save you now, and I don't know if we _can_ fix you."

"Don't be sad," Nina replied in her deep voice. "Let's just play. Please."

Ed just hung his head.

.

Ed didn't know how long they'd been driving back through the rain when Hawkeye's voice sounded. "You knew you might encounter something like this when you chose to rebel, Edward. This is why we didn't want you involved. If you can't deal with what happened to Nina you should take the Colonel's advice and stick to searching for a way to get your bodies back.

"Further, now that you're confronting it, you should know Tucker's right. You are similar to him because of your position as a human weapon. Whether or not you leave the coup to us now, so long as you continue to serve the military at all, you may be required to interfere with human life by killing it one day, or to get your hands dirty in another way. This is something you have to move forward from so long as you remain in the military no matter what path you take."

Edward, his flesh hand rubbing Al's head in the back seat, didn't speak back, but not because of how horrifically everything hurt everywhere in his body. He'd known something he hadn't wanted to think about since before they'd boarded the car, and he could no longer refrain from thinking about it.

If not for the Freezer's revelations, Ed knew, he wouldn't have been able to confront this now. Facing the truth of what had happened to Nina was in many ways more agonizing than facing anything McDougal had talked about, and if he hadn't already been experienced with this by going through it once before, if this had been the first time he'd had to look at this truth, he knew he would have averted his eyes from an even deeper layer of reality's brutality, alchemist or not. What Tucker had done to Nina, like what McDougal had told them, was too much.

For the first time Edward was thankful McDougal had taught him how merciless the truth was, because since he could face these thoughts, he was completely aware how much he needed to.

Nina was _much_ worse off than he and Al were.

"I'm still in," Ed replied. He looked at Al, who nodded. "But that's not important now. Why are we leaving Nina with Tucker? You know how the military's going to treat her. They'd experiment on her even if they _weren't_ willing to murder the people. Tucker proves that."

Mustang sighed. "Because we have nowhere safe to take her the military won't find her and take her from us," he spoke back. "I loathe it as much as you, but for now we're going to have to leave her to the laboratories. That gives us one more reason to depose Bradley as soon as possible."

"That's not true," Ed disagreed. "My automail mechanic and her grandmother would be willing to look after Nina, and Resembool is so far out in the countryside there's a good chance the military won't find her there."

The Colonel pressed his foot on the breaks and made a sharp "u"-turn, ignoring the angry honking of nearby drivers. "In that case, what are we waiting for?"

.

Before Mustang brought the car to a halt, Ed could see the two military police who should have been guarding Tucker's residence were lying on the street motionlessly, and the fence that had been set up before the closed gate to Tucker's yard was on its side to the right of the gate, the gate open.

A violent chill ran up his spine, and he threw open the door and disembarked, running over to the military police and looking down at them. Blood was pooling beneath their bodies and heads, and tatters of flesh lay to the side of the back of their heads. Edward's stomach heaved, but the sight didn't bother him more than a little due to the state he was in.

It was enough to cause terror to consume him absolutely again, though, and his heart pounded furiously. "What… what happened to them?"

Mustang was looking down at the military police himself. "I don't know. They appear to have died from head injuries, but the injuries look like nothing I've…"

Then he swore.

"What is it?" Alphonse questioned.

"It's him," the Colonel responded. "A serial killer has been targeting State Alchemists."

Edward lost the ability to breathe. That meant…

"Nina!" he yelled, pushing himself into his feet and sprinting through the gate.

"Wait, Fullmetal!" Mustang shouted. "It's too dangerous! This murderer killed one of our most skilled State Alchemists in comb–"

Edward ignored him, and he sprinted through the gaping opening back into the house. There was fresh rainwater on the floor, and Ed continued to sprint, following its trail down the hallways, something almost hysterical spiraling up within him. He heard Al's footsteps behind him and Mustang's and Hawkeye's further back, and heard Mustang and Hawkeye shouting to each other, but again the only person following him he was genuinely aware of was Al.

He reached double wooden doors opening into a room in the back of the residence and sprinted inside, then staggered to a halt.

Looking on, he wished he had the strength to tear his eyes from his head.

But even blind, he would see this forever.

He would see blood and shreds of flesh erupt out of the back of the head of an innocent, guiltless little girl who had once laughed and smiled and run happily and gasped in delight and had now been warped into an unnatural monster by the father she loved and trusted, and the girl's corpse fall lifelessly to the floor.

He _screamed_.

.

"Now you will know _death_!"-Red Testament, using Immoral Meridian

XENOSAGA: Episode 3:

ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA


	4. Alchemy of Destruction

.

 **CHAPTER 4:**

 **ALCHEMY OF DESTRUCTION**

.

The person who had murdered Nina was desert-skinned, and male, with short white and gray hair. He wore an orange jacket over a white shirt, black pants, and his eyes were hidden by Sunglasses.

But Edward barely paid any attention to this, to Tucker's corpse lying to the right of Nina relative to Edward in a spreading pool of blood, and he barely registered Nina's head had been burst open by currents of blue.

He clapped his hands, transmuted an automail sword out of his right arm in blue of his own, screamed in agony and rage and self-hatred and too many other emotions for him to identify any of the others or know how many could be identified, and charged the murderer, swinging his sword at the right arm that had torn Nina from this world and seeking to sever it from the bastard's body.

The person twisted to Edward's right with more speed than Ed had seen anyone move in his life save Teacher, put his right hand against the blade, and in more crackling blue, the sword shattered.

Edward staggered back. What the h–!?

"Brother!" Alphonse cried before Ed could finish the thought.

"That's enough, Scar!" Mustang shouted, and for an unknown reason Hawkeye was nowhere to be seen. "Freeze, or you'll learn why my Flame Alchemy made me the Hero of Ishval!"

As he was, Edward barely cared Mustang was thought of as a war hero of that genocidal conflict.

'Scar' turned to look at Mustang. He smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

"You're the so-called 'Hero of Ishval?'" he asked, still smiling his unpleasant smile, and there was a deep anger in his words. "Excellent. I wasn't sure how I'd get at you, but you've run right into my hands. I assume the boy with the automail is the Fullmetal Alchemist as well. I don't just get to kill the Hero of Ishval, I get to kill three State Alchemists in one day. This will be a day much more worth waiting for than I'd believed the day I'd judge the Hero of Ishval would be!"

Mustang tightened his glove, doubtlessly so he'd be better prepared for the small chance he'd be able to use his Flame Alchemy even though his glove was currently wet, and circled Scar. Scar matched his movements. "Go ahead and try to judge me if you still want to after you hear this," the Colonel retorted. "But you need to hear this first. I recently discovered the existence of an Ishvalan alchemist with tattoos on his right arm and left arm."

Edward's jaw dropped, and Scar shifted almost imperceptibly. Surely Mustang couldn't think this bastard might be him!

"If that's you," Ed ground his teeth so hard he was certain they would chip. Please, no, "We're not your enemies. We're allies of McDougal, the alchemist you saved near the end of the war."

The murderer was quiet for a few seconds, and then asked, his tone resigned, "My brother saved the life of a State Alchemist?"

Edward swore vehemently. Things couldn't be turning out this way! He was willing to work with McDougal, but not with a monster who had just murdered _Nina!_

The Colonel smiled. "He did. And he made a wise choice, for this alchemist went on to discover the true cause of the Ishvalan Civil War, and why we were ordered to exterminate your people." He stopped circling Scar, and Scar stopped moving across from him with one of the tall windows on the back wall behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Scar questioned.

"Fϋhrer Bradley ordered the Ishvalan child shot," Mustang responded. "The war was instigated on purpose. He wanted your people massacred."

Scar ground his teeth, and his right hand clenched and unclenched into tight fists. "I can believe that. But if you think I'll believe you knew nothing of this, you're a fool. You were one of the most lethal killers of my people. I cannot trust a single word that emits from your filthy mouth.

"Furthermore, if you're trying to convince me to take you to meet my brother, I couldn't even if I was willing to. My brother is dead. Another State Alchemist murdered him."

Now Mustang swore, but after several seconds, he addressed the male who was now revealed to be an Ishvalan again. "Is that why you're targeting State Alchemists? To avenge him?"

"Partially," Scar spoke back. "But also because, as you know, the alteration of matter from the form Ishvala gave it when He created this world into a different form is blasphemy. Your extermination of my people was the final straw. You have blasphemed against Ishvala too much. You must be sentenced to death for your sins."

Mustang snorted. "That's a lie and you know it. You're hiding behind your belief your God approves of your actions to justify what you know is nothing more than hatred and vengeance."

"I'm fully aware I'm avenging my people," Scar responded. "What difference does that make? All State Alchemists still deserve death. Even more so since you intended to exterminate my people from the start. I seek vengeance for my kinsfolk, but I'm still judging you, and God still approves of my actions. You filth must be cleansed from this world."

"Even if Ishvala does approve," the Colonel spoke back, "Can you say the same about your brother? Your brother saved one of us. He wouldn't want you to be systematically murdering us."

Scar snarled. "Don't you dare presume to tell me what my brother would want! I refuse to continue this conversation. It's time for you to be delivered your penance!"

Mustang's eyes shifted, so surreptitiously Edward barely caught it happening.

But he did, and apparently Scar did as well, for the Ishvalan threw himself to the side swiftly. Again he moved with incredible speed, but it wasn't quick enough to prevent the sniper's bullet that exploded through the window behind him from embedding itself in his right side rather than his chest.

Scar staggered forward and to the side, out of sight of the window, and Ed wasted no time. He ran at the Ishvalan as fast as he could move without unbalancing himself, Al following him, and swept into a low kick with his legs. Even badly injured, though, Scar was able to leap over the kick, and he sailed over Ed's head to thrust his right palm against the front of Al's armor.

Blue currents erupted over Al and the front of Al's armor burst into shards, sending him falling back to the floor on his posterior.

" _Al!_ " Edward screamed, terror defying all thought or expression consuming him wholly, but then he could see none of the flying pieces of armor had scratched his younger brother's blood seal.

Ed rolled back into a kick with his automail leg, and as he'd hoped, Scar caught it and blue crackled. But whatever the transmutations the Ishvalan had learned from his brother were, they were still bound by the laws of the world, and Scar couldn't hurt something he didn't know the composition of. Nothing happened, and Edward pulled forward with his leg. Caught off guard and wounded, Scar stumbled forward.

Ed's automail elbow connected with his stomach.

Al was rising, and Ed followed up with a kick with his automail leg at Scar's head. Winry was going to take her wrench to him for this, but he had to keep the Ishvalan's attention off Al. It was already fully obvious neither of them stood any chance of incapacitating Scar on his own.

Scar didn't take the bait, however. He ducked the kick as opposed to seizing the automail leg and destroying it, grabbed the leg in both hands, and hurled Edward over his head into Alphonse. The two brothers crashed to the floor, and Scar ran at them.

Al took his head off and hurled it spinning through the air at Scar's face, but again the Ishvalan didn't waste time destroying it. He ducked the helmet–

As Edward had been counting on. He'd already been clapping, and now, trusting Mustang and Hawkeye would realize what he had in mind, he slapped the floor. A stone pole shot diagonally into the air as rapidly as Ed could move it and struck the helmet, and sending it flying before the window Hawkeye had fired through. Scar halted and looked at the helmet, clearly assuming Hawkeye was going to try to shoot it in his direction.

A shot rang out, but the bullet didn't impact with the helmet. Rather, it tore over the spinning helmet, the speed at which the bullet was moving and the spinning of the helmet creating enough friction to light a small amount of sparks.

Scar's threw himself backwards, bringing his left arm up to protect his face, but it was too late. Mustang was slamming the glove with his Flame Alchemy transmutation circle on it to the floor.

An inferno detonated in midair in front of Scar, incinerating the front of his clothes and scorching the surface layers of skin off his left arm. He cried out in anguish and landed unsteadily, falling to his knees.

Edward charged him, bringing back his automail fist to slug the Ishvalan in the face and end this.

But Scar dove forward, slapping his right hand against Ed's automail leg, and now that the Ishvalan knew what it was, it tore to pieces in blue energies and Edward found himself falling backwards to the floor. Before Edward hit it, the Ishvalan struck the floor himself with his right hand, and it detonated in more blue currents, collapsing beneath the Ishvalan and carrying him out of sight.

Mustang cursed and ran up to the hole, but after several seconds the Colonel snarled and said, "There's too much rubble in the way for me to see what happened to him. He probably got away."

Ed swore.

Then, now that the threat was gone, the full enormity of what had just happened returned to him.

Everything rushed out of him, leaving him so empty the emptiness he'd experienced when he'd discovered Nina had been transmuted into a Chimera felt like a tiny crack in comparison. Before him, the sight of the back of Nina's head detonating in blood and flesh and her corpse falling to the floor played over and over as vividly as if it was still was dead.

Because the truth had hurt too much for him to look at it right away, and he'd done nothing until it was too late.

He was the one who had murdered her, as surely as if he had transmuted her head himself.

His stomach clenched and heaved violently, and he turned over onto his side and retched violently onto the floor, over and over, and when all the food was gone from his stomach he kept dry heaving and dry heaving until his stomach was too weak to continue, and even then it kept spasming and clenching and attempting to throw up.

By every element in the universe, what had he done?

He couldn't accept the truth McDougal had revealed? He'd been an incomparably greater idiot than he'd thought he was. He'd been telling himself a lie, and believing it even though he should have known better. He was _unwilling_ to accept it. The Truth was more terrible than he could have imagined in his craziest thoughts, so while he was facing it and continuing on for Al, he'd been too scared of it to accept it. He _could_ have accepted it; he'd just been too frightened to do so.

And Nina had paid the cost for his cowardice.

He'd thought he'd learned years ago what happened when he turned away from any part of reality, but he'd been wrong. They'd been more right than they'd known. They were infants of the worst sort, whining toddlers who got upset when the world demonstrated it wasn't the pristine photograph their parents had tacked to the wall even after they'd discovered doing so caused harm. They'd known the cost of not accepting the truth, but _still_ they hadn't accepted it. And that had led them to not even _face_ the truth about Nina.

And because of their childishness, Nina was now dead. They'd – _he'd_ – murdered an innocent, mostly happy little girl. Just like he'd murdered Mom. Someone who had nothing to do with their problems, and who never should have been dragged into them, who should have been able to live safely with the Rockbells with the hope one day she could return to her natural body.

Ed's stomach clenched particularly badly, and he thought his dry heaving was going to resume, but he was too weak to be able to.

He wished he could. He wished he'd retch for the rest of his life and past his death, or better, retch until he asphyxiated in his own throw up. He _was_ no different than the Fϋhrer or Tucker. He thought of little girls as worth nothing and let them die, and caused people besides himself and Al to suffer for their sins, when it was convenient for him to do so.

"I know, Brother," Al spoke behind him, fathomless guilt and shame and despair in his words. Ed didn't want to think about what he'd done to _Al_ by killing Nina. "We let her die. Because we're children."

"That's right," Mustang said. "So you shouldn't blame–"

It felt like measurelessly too much effort to move at all, but Edward carefully, weakly held up his automail hand. He ignored how his aching body protested the motion, ignored how his aching body protested even breathing, ignored his mind's desire to never move again. It was too late now, far, _far_ too late, but he could never do nothing again after doing nothing had killed Nina, and this had to end.

And that included ignoring the part of him that wanted to try human transmutation to attempt to resurrect Nina.

"Stop it," he said. "Please. We're alchemists. We have responsibilities, and we know the need to face the Truth. And we didn't do that, so we failed at our responsibilities. This is our fault, and nothing will change that."

Ed rolled over, and looked at Al. "We've got to end this, Al. It doesn't matter how atrocious the flow of reality can be, or how indifferent or other things alchemists and other humans can act, or what alchemy can do and construct, or the alchemy we trusted in is this horrible. That's what reality is. We've got to accept that, or this will happen again."

Al nodded. "I will."

He wondered if he should put more effort into searching for a way to move forward from the Freezer's revelations, as well, but he was almost certain it didn't matter. Why bother moving forward from the horrors of reality, if it was possible, when they brought those horrors upon innocents themselves?

Why move forward from anything again, when they couldn't save their mother or a single innocent little girl?

Edward could find no answer. He extremely highly doubted there _was_ an answer.

He didn't care anymore. They could swim to the other side of the river of mud, if one existed, without moving forward. So long as they stood on their own legs they could do it. Mustang hadn't known what he was talking about when he'd advised Ed to move forward in order to seize the possibility that might be on the other side of the river of mud.

As if knowing what he was thinking, the Colonel looked down at him with what might have been sympathy, but if it was, Edward didn't care. Things like that didn't matter now. Not when he'd murdered an innocent little girl.

"Come on, Fullmetal," he spoke, and Edward didn't care his voice was unarguably gentle too. "I'll hold you up while you fix Al's armor," Edward didn't care about the concept of Mustang keeping him off the floor as well, "Then we need to leave and call in the forensics team to do their work."

Edward didn't reply. He just lay there, looking up sightlessly at the ceiling.

.

Olivier Mira Armstrong finished reading Alex's letter to her most trusted subordinates, Captain Buccaneer and Major Miles, as they stood at attention before her desk in her otherwise empty office.

"Well," she questioned, "What do you think?"

"From what I've heard of the Strong Arm Alchemist," Buccaneer responded, "He doesn't strike me as the kind of person to betray his country." Olivier felt a slight surge of irritation. As much as she despised her younger brother, she didn't like hearing anyone discuss the possibility of his loyalties being in question. "I doubt he wrote you this to cause disruption here and leave us more vulnerable to Drachma."

"That's not what I meant," Olivier corrected. "Do you think he's the one being deceived? Do you think Mustang is backing McDougal, and had McDougal tell the Fullmetal Alchemist this wild story to ensure Edward Elric's and Major Armstrong's help in his bid for the top?"

"I couldn't say," Miles replied. "We know the Colonel's character, but although it's a stretch, this sounds like something he's capable of. But if he is, how do you explain the supposed 'Philosopher's Stone''s ability to transmute a diamond out of paper? Everything we've heard about the Fullmetal Alchemist over the years has made him out to be a young man of integrity. I doubt he'd lie about something like that."

"Those are my thoughts," Olivier spoke back, continuing to keep her joy, and other emotions, at having this unexpected opportunity to reach the top herself dropped in her lap, even though it had been by Alex, out of her voice. "If you two can't think of anything I've missed, it's probably safe to assume Major Armstrong is telling the truth, and we're threatened from inside our nation as well as outside. Do you have anything more you'd like to say?"

"No, sir," the two officers replied in unison.

"Then inform our soldiers in general of the situation," Olivier commanded. "From this moment onward, all Amestrian soldiers save the ones named in Major Armstrong's letter are to be considered enemies of Fort Briggs, and denied access to it unless they come with a direct order from an officer outranking me commanding they be admitted. I'll phone Central and inform High Command I'm closing Fort Briggs off to the outside world indefinitely to conduct new military exercises its vital we keep as secret as possible.

"Also order our troops no one save for Mountain Patrol is to leave the fort without my express approval, and anyone from Mountain Patrol, or someone else I give permission to, who has departed it and wishes to reenter must submit to rigorous searching before being granted admittance. No one and nothing enters this fort I don't know about in extensive detail from now on."

"That will just keep us safe for a time," Miles warned her. "When the Fϋhrer is ready to soak Fort Briggs in blood, he'll order you reassigned if you become an obstacle."

"I'm aware of that," Olivier said back. "That's why I want you, Captain Buccaneer, to take a squad of our best soldiers and use all the leave time you and our forces have been saving up to go on an extended absence. We're going to be setting up a coup of our own, as Mustang is currently committed to the Fullmetal Alchemist's ludicrous belief a revolution can be accomplished bloodlessly. And I know just how to begin."

.

Edward sat on the right couch relative to Mustang's desk when facing it, a crutch resting at his left side and looking across the room, but he saw nothing in it. Al sat to his right, his armor once more whole, and Hawkeye stood to the right of Mustang's desk.

The Colonel sat behind it.

"All right," the Colonel said. "First things first. Will you be traveling to Resembool to see your mechanic about your automail leg?"

The back of Nina's head exploded in tatters of flesh and blood

He forced the vision away.

Winry. He'd be seeing Winry tomorrow, in her body and whole and alive and in front of him, and he attempted to take comfort in that.

It barely helped.

"Yes," Ed responded. "Al and I will take the afternoon train."

"In that case," Mustang spoke back, "I'd prefer you wait until tomorrow. I reported what happened to Central before calling you in here, and Hughes and Major Armstrong will be arriving then to take Tucker and Nina to Central for autopsy at one of Central's government run alchemic research laboratories." Edward's stomach twisted, but he knew they couldn't object to that now when the Fϋhrer was going to be watching them from now on. He'd probably already started; a number of the soldiers in Eastern Command must have been assigned to keep an eye on their comings and goings, and all of Mustang's phone lines had probably been tapped by now. "As Scar got away, it will be better if you travel with Armstrong as an escort. Scar is badly hurt, but as we saw, wounds don't keep him from being deadly."

Edward knew Mustang was just being protective of them. After how badly Scar had been injured, Mustang knew they didn't need an escort. But, even though under ordinary circumstances Edward would have protested traveling anywhere with a military escort, and Ed was aware there was almost no need for one now, he didn't care whether he journeyed with one now too. Nor did he care Mustang was being protective. Ed had to be strong and tough to walk on his legs, but Mustang's protectiveness meant nothing to him now just like it meant nothing now it was Mustang who was being protective, so it wasn't a problem. "Sure," Edward responded.

The Colonel sighed, but did him the kindness of not looking sympathetic again, even though Ed wouldn't have cared if his superior had. "On those lines, are you still in?" Mustang didn't have to name what he was referring to.

Ed experienced a faint flicker of irritation. He was too exhausted and ached too much everywhere to feel more than that about this. "Yes." He was too exhausted and ached too much everywhere to truly care about a lot of things now in countless ways. "Could you please not ask me that again?"

Why did it matter now whether or not the revolt led to bloodshed? He was already a murderer and he'd already killed people; he'd murdered Nina and Mom. He hadn't directly killed Nina, but that didn't make him any less a killer; there was no difference between an indirect murder and a direct one. Furthermore, he _had_ directly murdered Mom. His hands were caked with blood; what was the point of being resolved not to kill and not to stain them? So what did it matter whether or not anyone was killed because of him in a revolution?

That was stupid. He _had_ murdered, but both of those deaths had been unintentional. As atrocious as it was to kill unintentionally, there was an incredible difference between unintentional killing and purposefully murdering someone or risking that murder. His hands were caked with blood, but he still couldn't kill intentionally or risk it or let it happen.

Mustang didn't react visibly or audibly to Ed's usage of 'please' to him. "Very well.

"I'd like to question if you're sure you can perform military operations, legal or illegal, now, but given how effective you were when we fought Scar, I'll let that lie for the present."

"Then to business," Hawkeye joined the conversation. She turned to the Colonel. "If we can arrest Scar without killing him, should we try to recruit him, sir, or let our superiors execute him?"

Something Ed didn't like at all rose within him, demanding he recommend they let Scar be executed, but he squashed it. If there had been any possibility before of Edward doubting his belief vengeance was wrong and self-defeating, Scar's actions had removed it from reality.

He clenched his teeth at the concept of allying with Scar, however. He didn't want the Ishvalan dead, but even after what Ed had done to Nina, he loathed the concept of working with Scar even more now that Edward knew Scar's motives. Scar wasn't murdering to attempt to save people like McDougal had. He was killing for revenge, out of hatred. He'd killed Nina and he was acting from hate. Unlike McDougal, Scar genuinely was a bastard.

"I know," Mustang was obviously aware of Edward's feelings. "I don't like it myself. But the threat to Amestris is a larger problem than our dislike of Scar's actions and motives. He's related to the Ishvalan who knew about the network of Stones. He may be able to aid us." The Colonel looked at Hawkeye. "Yes, we should attempt to recruit him if we're given the opportunity."

Ed clenched hands, one that felt so heavy it was hard to believe he could move it into a fist, and Alphonse shifted uncomfortably. He loathed it. He loathed it incredibly, even in the state he was in. But Mustang was right, and Ed had learned in Liore letting his emotions rule him took him down a path that wouldn't solve problems.

None of that awareness caused him to loathe the concept of recruiting Scar any less, though.

"Do you think we'll be able to find him before the Fϋhrer does?" Al questioned, and he couldn't keep worry from his voice.

Edward knew why he was worried. If the Fϋhrer located Scar first and arrested or killed him, their Ishvalan lead would turn out to be a dead end.

But Ed could barely care about that. How could he care their Ishvalan lead might get them nowhere, when Edward had murdered Nina, and hadn't been able to save her?

"I don't know," the Colonel replied. "If he remains in East City, maybe. But if I were him, I'd return to Central and investigate why the Fϋhrer willingly incited the war at least until my wounds healed, and not attack any State Alchemists again until they did, if not until I discovered answers. If he goes back to Central, he'll be much harder for us to find before the Fϋhrer does.

"Tell me, Fullmetal. As his brother was an alchemist, there's no doubt, whatever Scar was doing, he was using alchemy. Do you have any idea how he was inflicting injury and wrecking things?"

Ed thought about it. "He must have a way to stop his transmutations at the deconstruction stage."

The Colonel's eyes went wide. "You believe an alchemist can do that?" He looked as if he was thinking himself. "Perhaps it's because he's not using Amestrian alchemy. I doubt his brother was, given what he knew, so Scar probably isn't using Amestrian alchemy himself."

Ed considered that, then shook his head. "Now that my mind is on it, I can think of equations for stopping a transmutation at deconstruction when performing Amestrian alchemy. He may not be using Amestrian alchemy, but that's not why he's able to deconstruct without reconstructing."

Mustang's eyes widened further. "You can? That's good news. That will give us a very effective means of fighting the Fϋhrer so long as he doesn't shut off our access to tectonic energy. Would you be willing to draw me a circle for deconstructing before you leave?"

"Okay." Ed frowned. "Scar calls alchemy blasphemy against his God, yet he uses alchemy himself. He's as much of a fraud as Cornello."

Before anyone could reply, there was a knock on the door. Hawkeye walked over and opened it, and a brown-haired male soldier with a thin mustache and a neat beard covering all of his chin stood outside. He walked in, closed the door behind him, looked at Mustang, whose face was now professional, saluted, and said, "We've found him, sir." Edward tensed. He needed to do it, but if they were able to recruit Scar, this was going to cause him to feel even worse. "According to numerous townsfolk questioned, as you ordered, by soldiers in civilian clothing, a person matching the description you gave us goes by the name of Doctor Mauro in the town of Nentid."

Not Scar, then. Doctor Marcoh. Ed sighed in relief. Thank goodness.

This soldier must be trustworthy or Mustang wouldn't have dispatched him to search for Doctor Marcoh. Edward could act in ways that might be seen as untrustworthy with him in the room.

But that was mostly all he felt. Ed couldn't even care more than barely Hughes' idea had been proven accurate and they'd located Doctor Marcoh this swiftly. He couldn't even care that much this meant he'd soon be speaking to another alchemist who had treated human life as a laboratory sample, even though he'd deserted and stopped. Edward was aware he should care more about these things, but he couldn't. They hadn't been able to save Nina's human body, or her life. He should care they might have a better chance of saving countless millions of others now, but he couldn't. He couldn't fail and murder someone, especially someone like Nina, and feel comforted they might be able to do better in the future.

"Good work," Mustang complimented the soldier. "You're dismissed. Remember, you and everyone involved in the search are to speak of it to no one."

"Yes, sir." The soldier saluted him again and departed.

"Fullmetal," the Colonel said when the door was closed once again, looking at him, his face showing nothing of what he was feeling.

"I know," Ed responded. "I'm catching on. Nentid is on the way to Resembool, and the loss of my automail leg will give us a valid reason to be on a train that stops at Nentid. I'll meet with Doctor Marcoh with Al and Major Armstrong."

But what did it matter he was getting the hang of this, when his failings had condemned Nina?

.

Standing in front of the closed barred double gate to Central Prison, Kimblee heard the sound of honking from his left, relative to the direction he was facing. He looked in that direction to see a black military car parked at the edge of the sidewalk. A raised hand extended out of the front passenger window.

Still amused at the head warden's belief Kimblee had intended to blow the warden up, rather than give him a toy for whatever child or children he had, even though he'd fulfilled his duty, and done his work, as a prison warden with admirable dedication over the years Kimblee had been trapped in his jail, Kimblee boarded the car, and was unsurprised to see the black-haired woman with the Uroborus tattoo he'd seen observing the goings on at Laboratory Five seated in the driver's seat.

Her expression was a mask, and Kimblee wondered if the reason it was had anything to do with why he'd been pardoned, but Kimblee knew better than to ask, and wasn't curious enough to question anyway.

"Did you enjoy your life in prison?" the woman asked, voice as professional as a military officer's. "I apologize for keeping you there, but letting you walk free after you murdered five superior officers would have raised too many questions, and we weren't sure we could trust you."

Kimblee nodded and took his hat off, then sat down, putting it at his side, and folded his hands behind his head, relaxing against the back of the seat. He wasn't angered by her revelation. These people, whoever they were, had been doing what was necessary to protect or further the research their talents made them suited for. Kimblee didn't mind when that inconvenienced him. "I thought so. You people are the ones in charge of the experiments at Laboratory Five, and the Fϋhrer is in on it."

The woman moved the car out of its parked position and drove down the street. "That's correct," she confirmed. "I'll get right to the point. Do you still have your Philosopher's Stone?"

Kimblee pushed against his stomach and gagged up the Stone, taking the roughly oblong rock in his hand, giddy to have his assumption he'd get to wield it again shortly confirmed. He'd known he'd likely be kept in prison a long time before whoever had decided not to try to execute him chose to make use of his talents and the Stone, and he'd been willing to wait as long as it took to get the chance to wield something that amplified his talents so greatly again without needing to watch his back all the time, but it had still been far, _far_ too long since he'd expressed himself.

"Of course," he responded. "As I'm sure you're aware of, otherwise you wouldn't have kept me alive all this time. And I'm sure you know I have no intentions of returning it to any of you, and want me to wield it for the sake of your plans, or you'd have stuck me before a firing squad as opposed to releasing me. What do you wish me to do for you?"

"Do you remember Isaac McDougal's visit with you nine days ago?" the woman questioned.

Kimblee snorted. "The idealistic fool who believed I'd assassinated those officers in Ishval to create a country where there's no need for my talents? I'd never be able to forget such an accurate perception of my worldview, even if my memory wasn't as sharp as it is. No one has seen into my soul that penetratingly my entire life."

If the woman was amused, she gave no sign of it. She nodded. "Regretfully, McDougal succeeded, wittingly or unwittingly, in delaying our research, and may have hindered it so well it will take us years longer than we'd believed it would to complete it. He also escaped Central. We don't know for sure he's aware of the goal of our research and interfered with it intentionally – his actions against the Fϋhrer may have been a ruse – but there's a definite chance he does, and he's proven himself an impediment. So we want him taken out."

Kimblee smiled. Now he felt even giddier. The first time he'd be truly wielding his talents again he'd be using them against someone who had proven very interesting, and who thus was all but sure to provide Kimblee with another very interesting confrontation when they met again.

But Kimblee was confused. "Then why release me? The Freezer is experienced and skilled, but hardly a match for the whole Amestrian military." Then he understood. "Doctor Marcoh transmuted another Philosopher's Stone for use during the war, and gave it to him. _That's_ why."

"That's also correct," the woman spoke back. "Unlike yours, McDougal's was transmuted from most of the researchers who raised the orphans that produced Fϋhrer Bradley." Kimblee's eyebrows raised at what that meant. "Once we had our marionette, there was no longer any need for any of those researchers save one, and they knew too much, so we made use of them in another way."

"Who are you people?" Kimblee inquired. He extremely highly doubted he'd get an answer, but his curiosity wanted to be indulged, and Kimblee was rarely one to refuse his desires.

"All in good time," the woman responded. "For now, your role in our puppet show is to kill McDougal, not to know who your puppetmasters are. Do you object?"

"Not at all," Kimblee replied. "Use me as you please, what I care about is having the opportunity to make use of my talents the best ways I can, and carving out acceptance of my worldview in the flow of the universe. So long as you give me the freedom to do that, I don't care what strings you tie around me."

If the woman was happy with his response, she didn't show it. She nodded again. "It appears we were right about you." The woman drove the car around a corner. "You'll find funding, a list of contacts Bradley has ordered to work with you or under you, all the information we're willing to give you on our activities for now, and a second Philosopher's Stone," Kimblee's eyes widened, "In there.

"You can never be too prepared when dealing with someone able to disrupt things as drastically as McDougal has," the woman reached over to the seat to her left, picked up an envelope, and handed it to him. "You should have a backup."

Kimblee put the Stone he was holding in his mouth, and then opened up the folder, turned it upside down, and reached inside, fishing around until he felt his hand touch a marble. He took it out and looked closely at the partially translucent red stone, even though he knew there was no way to tell whose souls had formed it.

"Did you make this from condemned prisoners, Ishvalans, or researchers?"

"From researchers," the woman responded. "Doctor Marcoh's research team. They've also outlived their usefulness. They've become a liability, so we exacted one last service from them. Not Doctor Marcoh himself, however. He deserted when the war ended," Kimblee frowned. He wondered if he'd get used to the hypocrisy of most soldiers and State Alchemists before he died, "And we still have an important use for him."

"Should I take it this means McDougal has informed others about Laboratory Five?" Kimblee questioned. This also meant these people were done transmuting Philosopher's Stones, and though his curiosity wanted to be indulged again, as to what they wanted the Stones for, because if had been confirmed his previous question wouldn't be answered, he was almost certain it would be a waste of time questioning and suppressed his curiosity this time.

"He might have," the woman replied. "Again, we don't know for sure, but we're not taking that chance. After I drop you off, my colleagues and I are going to destroy Laboratory Five."

Kimblee frowned at his awareness he wouldn't be nearby when a large building was destroyed, but that was Equivalent Exchange. "I see," Kimblee said. "Will I be reporting to you, or to someone else?"

"You'll be reporting to the Fϋhrer," the woman responded. "After the Fifth Laboratory is destroyed, I'm going to head east. Another person who's been interfering with our research tried to kill one of our most valuable assets earlier today, and I need to watch over him until one of my colleagues resolves the problem."

"So be it," Kimblee spoke back. "Who is this other troublemaker?"

"Believe it or not, an Ishvalan alchemist."

Kimblee's eyes went wide, and now anger did surge within him. He was surprised an Ishvalan alchemist existed, but that meant nothing to Kimblee now. That an Ishvalan was hindering the Fϋhrer meant Kimblee had failed in his duty and job as a State Alchemist and to himself as a person skilled at killing. That was unforgivable.

"Then please accept my apologies," Kimblee responded. "I should have ensured the Ishvalans never caused you any difficulties again, and I didn't. If your ally fails to kill the Ishvalan, I give you my word I'll personally correct my mistake should you desire me to."

"That won't be necessary," the woman answered. "The ally of mine hunting him down is second in skill to no one but Amestris' true master. There's no need for you to worry. Focus on the Freezer. Your error will be rectified without you needing to do anything yourself."

As eager as he was to meet McDougal again, Kimblee didn't care for the concept of sitting back while someone else compensated for his failure to do his job. However, McDougal was the greater threat to the life Kimblee lived, and if he disobeyed the woman he'd lose his chance to fulfill his duty to his calling, without watching his back once more. And realizing his duty to his calling was more important than realizing his duty to specific work others assigned him. He'd have to focus on the Freezer.

"Let's hope so," he responded.

.

Alphonse entered the Colonel's inner office behind his crutch-using Brother to see Maes Hughes and Major Armstrong standing before Mustang's desk. At the sight of them, tears cascaded down Major Armstrong's face.

Al suppressed new discomfort at seeing them. He was accepting the truth now, but that wasn't lessening how uncomfortable he felt at the concept of talking to them and working with them, and at seeing them, because of what they'd probably done in Ishval.

Hughes smiled. "It's wonderful to see you two again. Please, accept my condolences about Nina. I can't even take thinking about how I'd feel if Elicia was altered into a Chimera or killed, so I have an idea what you must be going through."

Brother didn't say anything, and Al again knew if he had insides, they'd have twisted violently. He hadn't seen his brother act this anguished since before the first time they'd met Mustang, and he didn't have the most infinitesimal idea how to raise Brother's spirits.

He wanted to tell his brother they'd get better at alchemy because they were still walking, and they were accepting the Truth now, so they'd have a greater chance of preventing this from happening again in the future, but Alphonse was certain his brother knew that. Saying that to him would be pointless.

But if that wouldn't support Brother, what would? Al didn't believe this time there was nothing to say; they'd been lying to themselves about accepting the truth, so there had to be an answer to how they could come to terms with murdering Nina, but at present Alphonse didn't have the most microscopic clue what it was.

Was that, as well, because he was such a child? It was horrible transcending words his childishness had killed Nina like he'd killed Mom and done this to Brother, but did it even stop _there?_ Was there _any_ limit to how much damage his childishness could do?

Now that Al had murdered and failed to save an innocent little girl and sent his brother falling into fathomlessly more torment than he'd already been in, Alphonse extremely highly doubted it.

"We're ready whenever you are," Alphonse said. He pushed away his discomfort at the knowledge they were about to embark on a journey to talk to someone who had treated countless human lives the same way Tucker had treated Nina. Doctor Marcoh had stopped. He might regret what he'd done. It wasn't Al's place to judge him now.

"I'm ready myself," Major Armstrong replied. "But before we leave, there are things you need to know."

Al braced.

"Laboratory Five has been destroyed and every member of Doctor Marcoh's research team has vanished," the Major informed them, "As well as all the members of three other research teams working in Laboratory Three."

That was nothing they hadn't believed would happen, but it made Al feel worse. The Ishvalan who had saved the Freezer was dead and his brother would rather kill State Alchemists than help them, and now Laboratory Five was no more and they couldn't learn anything from Doctor Marcoh's research team. If Doctor Marcoh himself wasn't trustworthy, couldn't tell them anything, or couldn't point them in the direction of any evidence, they'd be fully at a dead end.

But they'd saved Liore, Al reminded himself. All their beginning efforts hadn't been futile.

" _I received a call before you arrived," Mustang spoke. "Liore is a smoldering wreck. We did it."_

 _Al was feeling much better as a result of all the time they'd spent with Nina yesterday and his awareness they'd be playing with her again today, and this improved his mood further._

 _Brother smiled, and fisted his right hand. Al fisted his left hand and they brought their fists together._

Nina was dead, but that meant something, right?

"But we know where Doctor Marcoh himself is now," Alphonse replied. He'd stopped giving up before Nina had been deformed and killed, so he wasn't going to refrain from talking about the bright side now even though, in countless ways, he now had an even harder time seeing it than when he'd given up. "This is no setback." He cringed at talking about the probable deaths of people as if it was no problem, but he knew he needed to resign himself to speaking this way. They'd likely be doing it again repeatedly in the future.

Brother gave Alphonse a look of relief his brother's visage showed was immeasurably deeper than his face could express at Al being optimistic, but that just slightly comforted Al, because he knew it hadn't caused Brother to feel better more than minisculely.

"That remains to be seen," Hawkeye put in from where she was standing behind the Colonel's desk.

"Is that all?" Brother questioned the Major.

Major Armstrong nodded.

"Then let's move it."

.

Al had never entered Nentid before save for its train station, but they'd stopped at it many times when they'd returned to Resembool for repairs or maintenance, and he was familiar with the sight of the town built on the hill. Nevertheless, he experienced a flicker of the joy he usually felt going somewhere new when they walked onto the path leading from the train station to it.

Armstrong was wearing civilian clothes – brown pants and a black jacket over a lighter brown shirt with a white collar and a black tie – so no one would have reason to believe he was a soldier in the state military. They proceeded up through the town and up the staircase to the porch of the small building Mustang's soldiers had discovered Doctor Marcoh lived in, and Armstrong knocked.

After a number of seconds, the door opened, revealing a short person who matched the description Mustang had given them. Alphonse suppressed a surge of revulsion at the sight of him, and guilt and shame consumed him at his reaction.

Doctor Marcoh's eyes widened at the sight of Armstrong, terror appeared on his face, and he tried to swing his door closed, but Armstrong stuck one foot between the doorframe and the door.

"There's no need for that, Doctor," Armstrong whispered. "We haven't come to take you back." Al suppressed his doubt they were doing the right thing. They didn't know whether Doctor Marcoh was trustworthy, but they knew he most likely wasn't with the Fϋhrer, and risking telling Doctor Marcoh the truth might be the only way they'd learn anything from him. Telling him the truth was their best option. "We know the Stone is transmuted from living human souls," Doctor Marcoh's eyes went wide, "And we want your help in preventing the Fϋhrer from creating any more of them. Are you willing to speak with us?"

Al pushed away his discomfort at the concept of entering Doctor Marcoh's apartment, more shame and guilt consuming him. He looked at Brother, but there wasn't enough emotion on his brother's face for Alphonse to be able to tell how Brother felt about seeing Doctor Marcoh and going into his apartment.

Doctor Marcoh looked warily at Armstrong, undoubtedly unsure if they could be trusted, and then turned to look at Brother and Al. "Who are they?"

"The Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother," Armstrong identified them. "Believe it or not, the short," his brother didn't react visibly at all, and once again Alphonse knew his insides would have twisted violently, "young man is the Fullmetal Alchemist," Doctor Marcoh's eyes widened again, "And the young man in armor is actually a year younger than him."

"That's intriguing," Doctor Marcoh responded in a whisper, "But that two State Alchemists are here gives me even less reason to trust you. That you know how the Stone is transmuted means nothing. You could have learned that from Fϋhrer Bradley. I have nothing to say to you. Take me by force if you must, but I won't talk."

"If we were with the Fϋhrer," Armstrong replied in a whisper, "We would have taken you by force already. Bradley is far more apathetic toward human life than you may be aware of. Or do the words 'nationwide transmutation circle' mean something to you?"

Doctor Marcoh went white, and didn't speak back for several seconds. "All right," he at last replied. "If Bradley was the one who told you about that," Alphonse felt a surge of hope, "You'd probably be ruthless enough to have forced your way in. Let's go inside."

.

Doctor Marcoh gestured for them to take seats at an average-sized square wooden table, and they did. To his further consuming guilt and shame, Al had to push away even more discomfort, at sitting at Doctor Marcoh's table, and at the doctor's table with him.

Doctor Marcoh wasn't the one Alphonse should feel revulsion about. Al _himself_ was. What was wrong with him? He knew better than this.

"How do you know about the nationwide transmutation circle?" Doctor Marcoh asked.

"Do you remember Isaac the Freezer?" Armstrong questioned back.

"Of course," Doctor Marcoh responded. "He was one of the two State Alchemists to which I gave the Philosopher's Stones I transmuted for use in the War of Extermination."

Al's red and white eyes of energy went wide. "Two?" he asked.

"I gave the other to Solf J. Kimblee," Doctor Marcoh replied, "The Crimson Alchemist. He was arrested for murdering five superior officers at the end of the Ishvalan Civil War, though, and I don't know what's become of it since. That the Fϋhrer let him live despite the severity of his mutiny implies he still has it, however. Kimblee's use of the Stone is what brought us victory. McDougal used his sparingly, but Kimblee transmuted with his Stone eagerly and often." Al wished he had a stomach that would heave or twist. He'd accepted the truth now, but that didn't mean he was much more comfortable with what how the military had defeated the Ishvalans. "The government must not have wanted to dispose of such a valuable human weapon."

"At any rate," Armstrong spoke, "McDougal was up to something to try to overthrow the Fϋhrer, but the Fullmetal Alchemist wanted to know why he was committing treason, and McDougal told him and showed him his Philosopher's Stone as proof. McDougal discovered the nationwide transmutation circle when looking into the reason the military had gone as far as it had to suppress the Eastern Rebellion."

"I see," Doctor Marcoh responded. "Where is McDougal now?"

"We don't know," Armstrong spoke back. "Edward Elric convinced him to attempt to overthrow the Fϋhrer in a way that wouldn't shed any blood, and he departed Central after giving us his leads. That's how we know about you. We're hoping you know where we might be able to find evidence of Bradley's crimes against the people. Our goal is to prove to the military at large the Fϋhrer intends to sacrifice the populace, so they'll turn on him. We're hoping, if no one supports them, Bradley and High Command will step down without fighting back."

"A noble goal," Doctor Marcoh rejoined, "But it won't work." Brother frowned, but Doctor Marcoh went on before he could talk. "Bradley has other supporters besides the military. Or perhaps a better term would be 'colleagues' or 'masters.'" Brother's and Armstrong's eyes went wide, and Al's widened again. "When I was working at Laboratory Five, our research was overseen by people outside the military's chain of command who wielded at least as much authority as the Fϋhrer. I don't know who they are or what their position is, but they spoke of Bradley as one would speak of an equal, maybe even an inferior. They were the ones who taught me how to transmute the Philosopher's Stone."

"How does that change anything?" his brother spoke up. "Whether the Fϋhrer is in charge of the alchemists who are going to activate the nationwide transmutation circle, it's the other way around, or they're in league, none of them can defeat all the Amestrian military."

"You're missing the point, Edward," Armstrong spoke. "This is going to make achieving a bloodless revolution more difficult, perhaps impossible. We know where to find the Fϋhrer and High Command. We don't know where these other people are operating from, or how large this group is. So long as they have the shadows they're hiding in to their advantage, they can fight back effectively, and if the group is large enough, there will be bloodshed even if we find out where they operate from."

The blood drained from Brother's face, and reality reeled and tilted. Al had worked with soldiers who had killed before, but he didn't want to believe they might have to shed blood after all when they'd put this much effort into avoiding it.

Brother clenched his teeth. "Not if I can help it. Please, tell us everything you know about these people."

"I already have," Doctor Marcoh responded, "For the most part. All that's left I can think of to say is all of them had an Uroborus tattoo somewhere on his or her body." The serpent that swallowed its tail, symbolizing the cycle of death and rebirth? Why would they wear that?

"That information could prove useful," Brother replied, trying to keep his emotions out of his voice, but Al could tell this was disturbing him, even as tortured as he was about Nina. "Thanks."

"To return to your request," Doctor Marcoh turned back to Armstrong, "Though, I can't help you."

Al had known this might happen, but he still sat stunned. Brother's mouth opened, and Armstrong clenched his teeth.

"Outside of the people with the Uroborus tattoo," Doctor Marcoh continued, "I know no more than McDougal does. I learned the Fϋhrer and his allies are constructing a nationwide transmutation circle as a result of looking into the reason two of my Stones were being used in Ishval, and even then, I doubted my discovery to this day until you told me someone else reached the same conclusion." Al sympathized with him. McDougal had convinced them he was correct about the nationwide circle when he'd told them the horrors the military had inflicted on the Ishvalans, and he was accepting the truth now, but he still didn't want to believe it. "I'm sure McDougal has already told you the names of everyone on my research team, and I have no idea what the other Stones we transmuted are intended for. All I can say is we transmuted hundreds of them."

Al's and Brother's eyes went wide, but Armstrong's didn't.

"I know High Command had at least one other research team working for them," Doctor Marcoh went on, "But they were used as the components for McDougal's Stone. I stole one of the Stones when I deserted," Al suppressed a rush of desire, new shame and guilt consuming him. But he knew he needed to get used to it. It was going to keep happening until they either used a Stone, or knew for sure they shouldn't, "But that won't tell you anything, and I'm not going to give you the medium I use to treat the injured and the sick here. I hid my research notes when I left, but it doesn't reveal anything beyond how to create the facsimiles – I'm sure McDougal has informed you the Stones are fake too. I can tell you Kimblee's Stone was transmuted from Ishvalans who had been serving in our military before the War of Extermination was launched, but that won't benefit you. I have no leads to give you you don't already possess.

"Nor do I know what the Fϋhrer and his allies want a mammoth Stone for." Alphonse wasn't surprised to hear that, but he'd still been holding out hope Doctor Marcoh knew that. All his hopes let down, Al lowered his head. "I'm sorry."

Brother sighed. "Then almost everything we've done so far has been a waste of time." Even lacking as much emotion as they should have had, Alphonse could hear the defeat in his voice. Brother didn't speak further for several seconds, and then laughed bitterly. "Who were we kidding? Us, overthrow the Fϋhrer? We, who couldn't even save a little girl?"

Al went cold. Brother wasn't giving up, was he? "Brother–" he started.

Brother looked at him and forced a smile, and Alphonse indefinably wished he could break down in tears at how blatantly fake it was. "I'm not giving up," Brother reassured him, and Alphonse inexpressibly wished he could cry for a different reason. "If I do, who will take care of you?"

"If that's the case," Major Armstrong put in, "We have information to offer you. Near the end of the Civil War, the Freezer met an Ishvalan alchemist," now Doctor Marcoh's eyes went wide, "who had discovered the government of Amestris had transmuted a network of complete Philosopher's Stones underground over the centuries to inhibit our connection to the tectonic energy we use to transmute." Doctor Marcoh's jaw dropped. "If you intend to fight the Fϋhrer yourself, you can't trust Amestrian alchemy will be reliable."

Doctor Marcoh shook his head. "I just want to hide out here and be a physician to the people of Nentid. I don't have any aspirations of overthrowing Bradley."

"So be it," Armstrong said, and stood up. "That will have to be all, then. If you can give us any assurance we can trust you, however, I'd be thankful."

Doctor Marcoh reached into the right side of his brown jacket and, after a number of seconds, removed a vial with a liquid colored a familiar partially translucent red inside it.

So the Stone truly wasn't always a stone.

"This is the Stone I stole," Doctor Marcoh spoke. "Would I have shown you proof I have this if I was lying to you?"

"That will have to be enough," Armstrong said. "Thank you for your time."

Brother reached into his coat pocket and removed a piece of blank paper and a pen, then wrote a number down on it. "We'll be in Resembool at the house of my automail mechanic, my childhood friend Winry Rockbell," Marcoh's eyes went wide another time, and Alphonse wondered why, "For an unknown number of days. If you think of anything you forgot about, you can reach us at this number."

Doctor Marcoh, his arm now shaking a little for an unknown reason, took it. "I will."

Brother seized his crutch and stood up. "Then let's get out of here."

Alphonse rose and opened the door leading outside for him, trying to keep his own disappointment from showing in how he stood, but he was so worried about Brother he extremely highly doubted he was successful.

.

Tim sat in his chair at the table motionlessly, looking at the number for the Rockbell residence. He'd lost track of the amount of times he'd read it.

Was it possible? Could this actually be the same Rockbell family as the one the doctors who had treated the wounded and sick Ishvalans had come from?

He hadn't wasted time asking himself if he could justify calling their house if it was, and he remembered something important. He knew he never could. So once more he tried to come up with what he would say to one of the Rockbells if there was a relationship.

Once more, he failed, and he sighed heavily. What was the point of this? He'd no more be able to come up with what he would say to one of them than he could justify speaking with them. His hands were too stained for him to be capable of that, and they always would be.

There came a knock on the door to the outside.

Exhaustedly, feeling his age throughout the entirety of his body more than he had before at any time in his life, he walked into the room opening to the outside and opened the door.

His eyes widened in horror.

Before him stood a familiar woman with black hair and an Uroborus tattoo beneath her collarbone.

He attempted to yank the door shut, but the woman reached out with her right hand and held it open.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," she said, "Doctor Marcoh." The woman walked forwards, backing him into the apartment.

She shut the door behind her. "Tell me everything you talked about with the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Strong Arm Alchemist, and Alphonse Elric, as well as what you did with the research notes you stole. If you refuse, I'll kill a number of your recent patients before the day is over."

.

"What was the point of coming here?"-Anonymous Drachman Soldier

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: Volume 20:

Chapter 79: BUG BITE


	5. Hostage Crisis

.

 **CHAPTER 5:**

 **HOSTAGE CRISIS**

.

The phone rang, and Wrath removed it from its receiver and held it to his ear. "This is Fϋhrer Bradley," he greeted his caller. "How can my office help you?"

"Mustang was lying," his sister's voice, still a mask, sounded from the other end of the line.

Wrath pushed away his concern. Given what she'd told him, it was far less the time now than when she'd called him about what Mustang had done to the Liore crest, and Wrath was aware if he questioned his older sister about what was wrong he might just hurt her more. He wasn't going to ask her what was bothering her, no matter how long this went on. He'd wait until she was willing to tell him on her own initiative.

"I'm in the town of Nentid," his sister continued, "In Doctor Marcoh's apartment." Wrath's eyes widened at what that meant. "The Fullmetal Alchemist and the Strong Arm Alchemist visited him less than an hour ago, and discussed with him the nationwide transmutation circle, Father's underground Stone, your involvement with them, and a number of other things they found out from McDougal. Mustang was fully aware what he was doing when he delayed us at Liore."

That inexplicable interest returned, but Wrath could afford to think about it even less now.

But their attempt to fake his older sister's death had been successful, and reports of a mysterious injured woman having fallen out of the remains of the Fifth Laboratory and disintegrating were spreading through newspapers in the country, so the trouble this could cause might be lessened.

"A shame," he replied. "Father can't afford to lose any of them, especially Edward Elric, but it appears we have no choice. Do you know the Fullmetal Alchemist's destination?"

"Yes," his sister spoke back. "But we don't need to execute anyone. One of the things the Fullmetal Alchemist informed Doctor Marcoh of made me aware we have another option for ensuring the Fullmetal Alchemist stops being an issue, and with that in my mind, I became aware we can use similar methods to ensure Mustang and Armstrong stop being problems as well. I believe it's best we wait to apply these methods until we have the greatest chance of enacting them around the same time with a lesser amount of interference, though, to increase the likelihood they'll succeed and we won't be forced to kill our sacrifice or any potential sacrifices."

"Oh?" Wrath questioned. "Do tell."

.

Granny, an amazing, marvelous, _flesh and blood and present_ Granny, and Den were waiting for them at the entrance to the front yard, Den barking and wagging her tail. Edward forced a smile, trying to make it look fully real.

" _If we hadn't visited Doctor Marcoh," Al said as they sat on the moving train, "We wouldn't have known about the alchemists with the Uroborus tattoo. Meeting him wasn't totally a waste of time. Further, we're just starting out. It's too early to become discouraged."_

 _Relief language couldn't encompass consumed Edward Al was being optimistic again, but he hardly felt better. Alphonse was right, but Ed was already aware of those things. He felt so defeated, and the most exhausted he'd felt yet, because their failure to learn anything much from Doctor Marcoh was further proof of how incapable Edward was._

 _Additionally, though Edward didn't want to believe it, he knew Doctor Marcoh and Armstrong were right as well. They didn't have any idea where to look for the alchemists with the Uroborus tattoo. Their existence would make it much harder to avoid bloodshed._

 _He was still determined to try to keep it from happening, but he knew, deep down, he now might be kidding himself he could._

 _All of it was enough to cause him to wonder if he_ should _be involved in this. This was his responsibility, but if he was so pathetic he couldn't save a single little girl, and couldn't avert bloodshed, what was the point of carrying this burden? Because he was this pathetic and useless, accepting the truth was no certainty they'd be able to do better in the future, and he'd be able to save anyone._

That's right. You're an immature baby. This is too big for you and you _know_ it is. You'll achieve nothing by participating in this revolt. You're arrogant. You're fully aware you are. That's the only reason you believe you have a chance of accomplishing anything for the whole nation. So why are you risking your brother's happiness to strive for something nothing but your arrogance thinks you have any chance at all of saving a country? Get a new leg, leave this to Mustang, and return to just seeking a way to restore Al's body. That's the best thing you can do for others.

 _Ed couldn't believe that. He_ had _to believe there was a possibility, and more than a sliver of one. If there wasn't, that would mean Al and Winry were likely condemned to become portions of a colossal Philosopher's Stone, and he couldn't think that. If he did, the indefinable terror and terror they'd die or nearly die and he'd lose them would make it_ much _harder to stay on his legs._

 _But that didn't prevent him from wondering. He had to do it, and he wouldn't give up, but when his chance at saving anyone might truly nonexistent, or miniscule, should he be fighting for Amestris, or should he just be fighting for Al?_

Granny must have been able to tell Ed's smile was fake, though, for she looked at him closely. "What happened, shrimp?"

This time, all Edward experienced was a little flicker of anger, but he needed to pretend he was more upset than that, or Granny and Winry would worry. He glared at Granny. "Go on. Keep telling yourself I'm tiny. No matter how many times you put me down, you'll never be able to feel better about your own height. You're a shriveled up fruit fly, and that will never change for the better for the rest of your life. You'll keep getting smaller and smaller, until I need to transmute a special magnifying glass for anyone to be able to see you, and even then all we'll see is a dot no larger than the point of a pin."

Granny didn't insult him back, though, and Edward suppressed the urge to sigh. This was a waste of time. He wasn't going to be able to fool her or Winry, and he'd been aware of that from the beginning.

"Cut it out, Ed," she replied. "I know you too well, and I'm certain you haven't forgotten that. Give up and tell me what's wrong."

Edward looked away, frowning determinedly. "No."

"You're not martyring yourself this time, Ed," Granny spoke back, tone just as determined. "Something's very wrong. It's in your face, in how you walk on your crutch, in your tone, and in how you're standing. I'm not going to let you keep me out of your problems this time because you want to be a self-sacrificial idiot. Tell me what's hurting you."

Edward crossed his arms and looked back at her. "Make m–"

Something hard and spinning smashed into his head, and he fell onto his posterior.

He sighed heavily in relief and looked up through the stars in front of his eyes at the upper deck of the house, and there she was, an angry look on her face and her mouth opening with her blonde hair falling in two curtains before her ears out of her gray bandanna, whole and human and vibrant with life and here.

"What will it take to persuade you to call ahead before you come here for repairs!?" she yelled at him. "You're supposed to be a genius! Why can't I penetrate that skull of yours!?"

Her voice was human as well, and without an echo.

Something loosened inside him and Ed's body ached even more, if that was possible, but at the same time he could again believe his limbs weren't too heavy to move. A genuine smile came to his face, and, as there was no point pretending nothing was wrong, just in hiding what it was that was wrong, he looked at Winry and basked in the sight of her in a human body and before him.

Winry's expression changed from angry to confused. "Ed? Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I'm just very happy to see you," he spoke back, trying to keep all his relief out of his voice and just partially succeeding. "That's all."

Winry's face became concerned. "Ed?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

Major Armstrong, now garbed in a brown vest over a white shirt and black pants, coughed, bringing the Rockbells' attention to him, and he held out his hand for Granny to shake. A frustrated expression appeared on Winry's face, and she glared down at Edward.

"I'm Major Alex Louis Armstrong," he introduced himself, "A State Alchemist in the Amestrian State Military. It's a pleasure to meet you, madam."

Granny shook his hand, but from the look she gave Edward and Alphonse, Ed knew this wasn't anywhere near over.

"I'm pleased to meet you myself," she replied. "By all means, come in."

.

Winry stood before the table in the living room, holding fragments of what had once been Edward's automail leg in her hands and shaking violently. "It's in pieces!" she cried. "You _utterly wrecked_ my breathtaking work of craftsmanship this time, Ed! The bioelectricity conductors, the gears, the artificial musculature, the skeletal structure, _everything!_ How could you!?"

As much as he never wanted to stop, Edward ceased basking in the sight of her. This was an opportunity. The chances of it succeeding were almost nonexistent, but he had to try.

"If it causes you to feel any better," he replied, holding a cup of orange juice and seeing no reason not to try to talk in a regular voice even though he knew he wasn't deceiving Winry, "It's the result of damage I didn't intend for it to take. My purposeful attempt to cause that to happen to it failed."

Winry went stiff.

Then, " _What!?_ "

The next thing Edward knew, he was lying on the floor beside the couch, Winry standing above him with a wrench in her hand, his forehead hurting so badly he was certain the impact of the wrench with it must have broken into his brainpan, orange juice all over his shirt. More fury was on Winry's face than he'd seen on it before in his life, and she appeared stunned and speechless.

Then realization came to her expression, and the fury changed into concern, disbelief, and anger accompanied by anguish he hadn't seen on her face since he and Al had burned their house. Ed forgot about the agony in his head, feeling sick. He knew Winry didn't like that he and Al never talked to her about their struggles, but he'd had no idea sparing her his burdens was hurting her _this_ much.

"You're trying to take my attention off of what's bothering you," she said. "You'd never have willingly told me you tried to damage my automail this badly if you weren't. What's going on, Ed? You never talk to me about what's going on in your life, but you've never tried _this_ hard to keep me in the dark. What happened to you?"

Ed hated seeing the expression on Winry's face, and was sickened he'd caused it, but he knew she'd be hurt more, perhaps even cry, if he told her. No matter how much it hurt her, he couldn't weigh her down with any more knowledge of what his life was like than what he silently conveyed, and he could never force her to bear any of the weight of what he'd experienced recently. He met her eyes challengingly. "That's none of your business," he replied, daring her to press the issue.

Winry glared at him furiously, and then spun away, turning her back on him. "Fine," she spoke, sounding on the verge of tears, and Edward's stomach twisted violently, but he still couldn't tell her. She'd still be injured more if he did. "Be that way. But if you're going to start shoving me away this severely, why are you still coming back here at all? Why aren't you going to someone for repairs who won't worry about you and doesn't care about whether you're okay, since it's clear I don't have a place in your lives?"

Ed's jaw dropped.

"That's not it at all," Alphonse spoke up, sounding horrified. "We've learned things and gone through things in the past days you shouldn't have to confront, so we're trying harder than we usually do to keep them away from you. You still have a place in our lives. You welcome us here as if we're your real family, and that's invaluable to us. Thank you so very much."

Winry said nothing for several seconds, and then rubbed her eyes. "You're welcome," she responded tiredly. "I'm sorry. This has been bothering me for a long time, and Ed going this far was more than I could deal with. But I _can_ deal with this. Don't worry about it."

She turned back to Ed, and he winced at the tears that had fallen onto her face even though she was attempting not to cry now. She smiled. "Let's get you fitted for a new leg so you can get back out there and solve whatever this is."

.

Winry rolled up the measuring tape and stood up straight before the couch in the living room.

"I have bad news," were her words. "You've outgrown your automail arm. It's coming apart. I'm going to have to replace it in addition to the leg."

Edward didn't force a smile at the awareness he'd grown. It wouldn't fool the Rockbells. "That's okay," he replied. "We're not in any hurry. We have nothing pressing to do so far as solving one of our problems goes, and we don't have any leads towards regaining our bodies at present."

"That doesn't matter," Winry rejoined. "Because your difficulties are causing you this much trouble, you need to be able to overcome them as soon as possible. I'll get your new limbs done for you in…" She trailed off, and her face assumed a thoughtful expression. "…Three days."

"Winry, you don't have to go that f–"

Winry cut Alphonse off. "I have to go as far as it takes. Like you said, I think of you two as my family. Whatever you require from me, I need to give it to you."

Edward experienced faint discomfort at Winry's words, and wondered why.

Granny walked over, holding a non-automail prosthetic that could attach to his leg automail port. "In the meantime, this should give you a hand. We don't have any arm prosthetics that can attach to automail ports at this time, however. I'm sorry." She bent down and attached the leg.

Ed got up on his crutch, testing its steadiness until he was certain he could use it, and then placed the crutch on the couch. "That's fine."

.

Edward stood before the grave, Den at his left and Al at his right, holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand while Al held a bouquet in both of his.

Ed had lost count of how many times his stomach had clenched or heaved on the way to the graveyard, and looking at his mother's grave, it clenched again, and he felt so sick he was afraid he was going to retch again this time.

But he didn't.

"She's more disappointed in me, Brother." Edward whirled to look at Alphonse in shock and dismay. "I'm the one who gave up. You didn't. I know it's because you're taking care of me, but we both know I need to stay on my legs for the same reason, and I still gave up on getting my body back."

"How would that cause me to feel better if it was true?" Ed questioned, this time knowing for certain there was nothing he could say that would support Al. "Nor is it. I came up with the idea of trying the human transmutation, and I imprisoned you in your unfeeling body. Those sins are a lot worse than you having given up."

"I chose to participate in it," Alphonse spoke back. "Further, I cost you your arm saving me from my punishment. I'm equally as guilty. But afterwards, you never gave up. You kept trying to discover a way we could atone, and you put yourself through so much for me in the process nothing can quantify it. Undergoing automail surgery and rehabilitation on your arm and leg in the same time, and recovering from the surgery in approximately a year when doing so usually takes approximately three. Tainting your name. And how did I repay you? I _gave up_.

"If Mom is more disappointed in either of us for our sins, and our childishness, and for murdering Nina, and for everything else, she's more disappointed in me."

Edward sighed heavily. They'd needed to do this for Mom, and to face this truth after everything that had changed and what they'd brought about, but being here was causing Al more anguish, and worse, than he'd believed it would. They couldn't stay here.

He knelt and put the bouquet on the grave. "I'm ready to go back," he said. Standing up, his eyes fell on a familiar charred wreck on a hill that had once been a house, and suddenly, Edward couldn't breathe.

 _Al was gone all reality was blinding pain he'd never known never imagined or dreamed was even remotely possible Al was_ gone _everything was gone now he'd wiped Al from existence as well it was all his fault he'd had the idea to do this he'd murdered Mom he'd erased Al Al was gone Mom was as inexpressibly horrible as an infinite nightmare and lay in spreading blood he'd done this to her Al was nothing Al was gone_

Edward spun away from the sight as fast as he could, shaking violently, clutching his chest over a heart pounding so fast and hard it should have broken free from his body and fighting to breathe, and struggled desperately to separate reality from the visions that were so real he couldn't be sure they weren't taking place now.

"Brother?" Al rested his hand on Ed's shoulder, and Ed pressed it to his right cheek with his left hand, anchoring himself in its familiar coldness and hardness, and took a deep breath, then another and another, until he was certain what was real.

What had just happened?

"I… I don't know," Ed replied. Something deep inside him felt like that was wrong, but there was no way he was thinking about why after what he'd just experienced. He didn't deserve to be touched by Al after he'd killed Nina, and he wanted to release Alphonse's hand now that he was certain what was real, but he knew he still needed it. He kept Al's hand pressed to his cheek for a number more deep breaths, and then let it go. "Forget about it. I don't know what's wrong this time."

"A… All right." Al sounded like he didn't want to, but he removed his hand from his brother's cheek. Ed looked at him place Alphonse's own bouquet on the grave, carefully keeping his eyes away from the hill.

"Now I'm ready, too."

.

Edward walked through the door to the Rockbell house Al was holding open for him to be greeted by the sight of Armstrong, his vest off and tears streaming down his cheeks from closed eyes.

Before he could react, Armstrong had grabbed him in a hug so tight Edward couldn't breathe and he was certain his bones would snap under the strain of the strength in Major Armstrong's hug, and the large male was nuzzling him.

"I'm so dreadfully sorry, Edward Elric!" he cried as Ed struggled futilely to pull out of Armstrong's embrace. "I never knew how unspeakably terrible your plight was! Pinako told me all about it!

"To think your brother lacks a human body, and you were robbed of your left leg trying to restore life to your lost mother! Please, accept my warmest and everlasting condolences and support! I pledge, from now on, you'll be supported by all the compassion the Armstrong family has nurtured in its progeny for generations!"

He released Edward, who grabbed his aching chest while thankfully taking in air, and spread his arms wide, tears still streaming down Armstrong's cheeks. "But I must speak, your love for your brother is nothing short of the material legends are made of! That you were so devoted to him you gave your right arm to save him causes me to want to cry a flood higher than the tallest mountain! That you burned your house"

 _The thing that should have been Mom was as indefinably horrific as an infinite nightmare blacker than the most lightless night endlessly beyond the void with unnaturally long deformed ribs sticking at impossible angles out of her torso and her legs contorted at equally unnatural angles and her head upside down and as he looked on in horror no thought or words could express the thing struggled in agony to raise one arm in a pool of spreading blood and violently threw up blood and then the arm fell into the blood pool that was now spreading more rapidly and the thing lay unmoving Al's clothes and shoes lay empty of everything_ everything _Al had been erased from existence he was gone gone gone_ gone _the agony from the bleeding stump that had been his left leg wiped out everything everything he'd completely destroyed everyone he loved most now Al was gone too Mom was dead again he'd failed her and by doing so he'd murdered her_ he'd murdered her _it was all gone now everything_ everything _it was all his fault he'd done it_ he'd done it _everything was anguish anguish anguish_ anguish _and horror horror horror_ horror _surmounting language it was all because he'd been so stupid he'd erased Al he'd erased Al he'd erased Al_ he'd erased Al

Someone infinitely distant and distorted was on his knees throwing up violently somewhere infinitely far away all that was real was Al's empty clothes and shoes and the all-consuming blinding anguish and anguish surpassing speech and the thing more inexpressibly horrible than an infinite nightmare lying in spreading blood everything _everything_ was empty clothes and shoes and blood and agony and horror defying words and pain transcending thought

 _No! You can't let this happen! Al!_

Reality returned to him and the realistic sights vanished, but he couldn't stop retching. The throw up kept coming and coming and he couldn't stop it or hold it back for more than a few seconds. He was aware a hand was on his shoulder and another was stroking his back, but it took him numerous seconds to register they were Winry's, and she was kneeling behind him and looking at him with tears falling down her face.

"It's okay, Ed," she spoke softly. "I don't know what it is that has hurt you so badly, but it can't touch you here. You're safe here, and Al's safe as well. You're home here. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

Ed wanted to laugh. It was as too late for that as it was too late for countless other things. But he wouldn't have even if he could have stopped throwing up; that would have hurt Winry further. He focused on the warmth and feel of Winry's strokes and her hand on his shoulder, until he was able to prevent anything else from his stomach from escaping him.

His knees gave out and he would have fallen forward into his throw up if Winry hadn't caught him. She pulled him against her tightly, bringing his head down on her shoulder, and stroked his hair with one hand while the other remained around his back, holding him to her securely. He didn't deserve to be held by her, and he needed to be strong, but he didn't resist; he was too weak even to shudder or shake more than a little.

"It's okay," she said. "I'll personally ensure nothing will hurt you here. You can trust me. I got you through your automail surgery and rehabilitation, didn't I? Would I let you down now?"

Edward wanted to laugh again. He wasn't afraid of _her_ letting _him_ down.

But he could feel her heartbeat against him, and she was warm, and in spite of the need to be strong and tough, as he continued to feel her heartbeat and warmth and she continued to hold him and stroke his hair, he felt himself relaxing, and an amount of the tension inside him draining away. He became aware he was burying his head in her shoulder.

"It's okay," she repeated, surprise at his action in her voice but voice still soft. "I'm right here. Al's here, too." Edward heard the sound of his brother's footsteps and then felt a cold and hard hand against his left cheek, but Ed was too weak to press it to his cheek. "And we're not going anywhere. Just eat dinner if your stomach can take it, and go to bed and rest."

Edward lost the ability to breathe, and his shaking and shuddering grew slightly worse. Nina and his mother had been one and the same last night, dying struggling to raise an arm and coughing up blood as flesh and blood detonated out of the back of her head. He'd hardly been able to sleep at all, but when he had, the nightmares that weren't nightmares had been so horrible beyond encompassment he hadn't been able to tell he was awake for a long time after he'd woken up from each of them, seized by mindless speech transcending terror.

One of the last things he wanted to do was try to go to sleep.

"Nightmares too, huh?" Winry's voice was cracking, and Ed's stomach tried to twist weakly, and he contorted at the pain from its attempted movement. Winry held him tighter, and stopped stroking all of his hair, now just stroking the back of it and pressing her cheek into the top of his hair.

She was silent for a number of seconds and then he felt her shift as if she'd made a decision. "All right, then. You're not leaving me any other choice. If you don't want to open up to me, I'm willing to deal with that and remain oblivious to what type of life you lead. But this is another matter completely. Something is breaking you two apart, and I can't in good conscience let you return to working in a military when you're this way. You'll come to pieces at a critical time and get yourselves killed. I'm not giving you new automail limbs unless you tell me what's wrong, and convince me you won't be a danger to yourselves."

Ed stiffened, and strength returned to him. As it did, disgust that wasn't disgust, guilt surpassing language, and shame consumed him. What kind of brother was he!? Al needed him to stay on his legs!

He pulled back from Winry and Al and got to his feet, and he had no problems standing steadily.

But he pushed his disgust and guilt and shame aside as best as he could. This wasn't the time for them. He glared down at Winry angrily.

"Give me a break, Winry," he spoke. "I'm still on my legs. Even if I wasn't, I got back on my legs after we lost our bodies. You have no justification telling me I'm unfit for the battlefield."

Winry looked back at him defiantly. "You got back on your legs with my help." Her gaze turned to Armstrong, losing none of its defiance. "Arrest me if you must, Major Armstrong," she addressed the older State Alchemist, her voice challenging him to try, "But I'm going to do everything in my power to make it harder for Ed to return to duty."

"Don't worry about that," Armstrong replied. "Colonel Mustang made me aware he's had doubts about Edward's and Alphonse's ability to carry out their assignments since yesterday, and this is too much for me. I'd prefer to be reassured myself the Elrics are fit for duty, or I'll recommend to Mustang they be removed from it temporarily."

Edward's jaw dropped, and he whirled on Armstrong, but he wasn't able to think of anything to say. He didn't know Armstrong nearly as well as he knew Mustang, but he knew the Colonel very well, and he was almost certain if Armstrong recommended Mustang stop involving him in the revolt and gave how he'd just acted as the reason, the Colonel would.

"You're underestimating Brother," Alphonse argued. "You don't know how bad he initially felt after we lost our bodies until he met Mustang. He can deal with this."

"I can't take that chance when lives are at stake," Major Armstrong responded. "I'm sorry, but my responsibilities require me to attempt to keep a soldier off the battlefield if I can't be sure he or she is reliable. I'm going to back up Miss Rockbell."

Ed sighed. Armstrong was correct, and he'd been aware of that himself. He _shouldn't_ be trusted, with the revolt or official missions, if he couldn't assure the Major he wouldn't fall apart at a vital time.

But Ed didn't know why he'd just retched repeatedly, and Armstrong knew everything else tormenting Edward. What could he say to prove to Armstrong he could fight effectively?

But maybe Winry could think of something, if he told her what was wrong.

He looked at her where she was standing up, his stomach trying to twist again. This was wrong, and he was going to hurt her horribly by telling her these things, but if he had to fight Bradley without Mustang's aid, he stood less of a chance of saving Al and her from being taken into a Philosopher's Stone.

Additionally, he was terrified. What would Winry think of him, when she heard what he'd done to Nina?

But Al might already hate him. So what did it matter if Winry did?

He waited until she was standing, and then opened his mouth.

"Yesterday," his voice broke as he said the word, "I murdered a little girl."

Winry's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, but there was no revulsion or anything else. There was just horror, and sympathy, and understanding, and trust he hadn't turned into a monster and there was a reason he'd done this that meant he hadn't ceased to be the Ed she knew, and more tears came to her eyes.

Ed sagged a little, but in countless ways, this was worse. He didn't deserve trust or sympathy or understanding or her crying for him or any of the rest any more than he deserved her holding him.

Winry walked forwards and took Ed's left hand in her right one, squeezing it, and though the gestures caused Edward to feel uncomfortable for too many reasons to name he didn't pull away. He couldn't hurt her by rejecting her support in any way now after how terribly he'd just wounded her by telling her about Nina, and with how terribly he and Alphonse were going to continue to injure her. Not even after he'd given in when she'd been holding him.

Winry's eyes widened slightly that he wasn't pulling back, but she didn't say anything. She led him over to Al and took Al's right hand in her left, squeezing it as well. Then she led them to the couch and sat down, pulling them down with her so she was sitting between them, and kept holding their hands. Granny walked to the couch and sat down on it, too, placing her hand on Ed's back.

"Tell me all about it," Winry spoke softly.

.

Winry sat on the couch, Ed's and Al's hands in hers, fighting to wrap her mind around the reality she was now faced with.

The revelations the country she lived in had been founded on lies for the purpose of transmuting her into a colossal alchemic construct, people possessed the cruelty to inflict such a horror, and Ed and Al were now carrying the burden of the entire _country_ on their shoulders, had been more than she could take in, and she still couldn't take it in, but it wasn't why she was having so much trouble wrapping her mind around this reality. Nor was it because of the revelations of how the military had won the war that had taken her parents from her, of what had happened to Nina, Al had given up, Ed's and Al's confidence in themselves had been drastically wounded, reality now appeared horrible to Ed and Al, a major part of what Ed and Al had believed in as something wonderful had turned out to be something ghastly, or even the revelations Ed and Al might not be able to restore their bodies to each other. She couldn't take any of those things in, too, but even wrapping her mind around the knowledge Ed and Al might be condemned to their current bodies for the rest of their lives was easier than wrapping her mind around the worst portion.

The worst portion was she didn't have the slightest idea what she could do to repair any of this for Ed and Al.

She knew that didn't mean there _was_ nothing she could do. She hadn't had the slightest idea what she could do for them when they'd lost their bodies, but then Mustang had arrived and she'd been able to give Ed a new arm and a new leg. There might be something she could do to fix this, too. At worst, she might just need to wait for a chance.

But she had no guarantee of that, and this was much different. As much as she didn't want to admit it and felt like she was betraying Ed and Al in one of the most horrific ways possible thinking it, the brothers were correct. Nina _was_ dead because of their cowardice. Had they faced what the military was going to do to her sooner, they'd have taken Nina from Tucker's house before Scar had arrived. How was it even remotely possible for Winry to fix something like _that_?

Furthermore, Ed didn't know why he'd thrown up, and she couldn't repair something when she didn't know what the damage was.

Maybe she could come up with, or discover, something that would give them as good a chance as they'd had before at getting their bodies back, and there were plenty of things she could do to aid them in launching a revolt. Alternately, if she couldn't aid them in the revolt she could provide medical aid or prosthetics to people wounded in the revolt if it came to bloodshed, and lessen the burden they'd have to carry of the lives they'd ruined or ended.

But Nina, and Ed's and Al's belief in alchemy and confidence, and whatever had sent Ed to his knees retching, were different.

 _This is pathetic. You've spent years wanting Ed and Al to talk to you about their problems, and now that they do at last you don't know what to do to solve them. What was the point of worrying about them all those years when you don't have a clue how to mend their wounds after discovering you were right to worry?_

That was an extremely good question.

Her eyes were burning by now from all the tears she'd shed since Ed's retching, but her vision blurred again. Ed and Al needed her now as much as Ed had when she'd given him his limbs and supported him through his rehabilitation, and she didn't know the first thing to do.

But, though she couldn't solve their problems, there _were_ things she could do that might cause their burdens to be easier to bear.

She squeezed Al's hand again, as she'd squeezed both their hands multiple times during their story, and then released it because he couldn't feel it. She rubbed her eyes and looked at Major Armstrong, who stood across from the couch.

She consciously inhaled and exhaled, trying to return her breathing to regular. It was harder than usual to breathe, due to new terror she was experiencing she hadn't felt before. She'd known from Ed being a soldier in the military and the damage his automail had taken over the years Ed and Al didn't live lives where they were as safe from harm as she'd believed the average civilian was, but until now she'd never known just how dangerous those lives truly were. In addition, they'd recently involved themselves in something that was as dangerous as it got.

She was terrified now one day she'd wake up in the morning and Granny would tell her she'd gotten a call informing her Ed and Al had been killed.

She wished she wasn't about to say this to Armstrong, and she could keep the brothers here with her where they'd be safe unless Mustang was unsuccessful in launching a revolution himself, but that would make her a hindrance to Ed and Al regaining their bodies and make it harder for them to fulfill their responsibilities. She didn't want to do that to them, and even if she had wanted to, she could never do it.

When she was breathing better, she opened her mouth.

"There's no need for you to doubt Ed and Al," she said to Armstrong, and Al's energy eyes widened in surprise. "Automail rehabilitation ordinarily takes around three years, and Ed achieved it in approximately one. Furthermore, automail surgery is _incredibly_ excruciating, and Ed underwent it on his arm and leg at the same time. I can't speak for Ed's bout of throwing up here, but you can take my word for it; nothing else they've been through will impair their ability to set up the coup or fulfill their missions. And if Ed's retching is related to what they've been through since McDougal told them the truth, it's also nothing to worry about. Maybe it isn't, so I can't reassure you what caused that won't be a problem, but since all the rest probably won't, I'd continue to trust in their ability."

Armstrong thought about it, then nodded, and Ed looked relieved.

"Then you'll give me another arm and leg?" Ed questioned.

Winry turned to him. "Yes," she replied, and more relief came to his expression. But since Ed was no longer trying to act like himself to hide what was wrong, there wasn't as much more relief as there should have been. She wasn't surprised, after his face hadn't shown the emotions it should have, in part or in full, when he and Al had been revealing what was wrong, but her heart nevertheless twisted.

She took his hand in her other hand as well and squeezed it in both of them, feeling guilty she was thankful Ed had ceased acting tough and she could support him any way she chose. She was aware it had been for her sake at first, but by now she was certain much of it was due to the anguish, and worse, he was experiencing having let his torture out into the open. She shouldn't be thankful for this the least bit. "But I don't want to leave you alone while I do it, during the day or during the night. I want you and Al to stay in my workshop with me during the day any time you don't want to keep your voices at a reasonable volume, Al to stay in the workshop during the night awake, and you to bring a bed into my workshop and sleep in that at night." Ed shifted at this, but even this wasn't enough to cause him to pull away, and Winry had trouble breathing, new tears brimming. He was even worse than she'd thought. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but I want to be able to be there for you with my presence and in any other way I can."

"If you're thinking of waking me up when I have nightmares," Ed replied, and she couldn't tell what he was feeling at her request at all. "That won't work. I'm not able to sleep at all unless I'm having nightmares."

So that was why Ed had such dark and deep circles under his eyes this time.

"Maybe the nightmares will stop," Winry responded, "Or lessen, if I hold you until you fall asleep, and wake you up when you have them and hold you until you return to sleep."

She knew Al wouldn't have tried that. Ed would have been too uncomfortable resting against Al's metal body to fall into a decent sleep even if his brother's embrace had comforted him, so if Al had held Ed he would have risked making the nightmares worse.

Such desperate hope appeared in Ed's eyes where irritation or anger should have been Winry wanted to break down in her tears and cry for hours. This wasn't Ed. Ed was strong, independent, determined, resilient. She knew he'd been suffering so horrifically the term couldn't define it since he and Al had lost their bodies, but he'd never _showed_ it openly since he'd finished his rehabilitation. She experienced even worse guilt, for she was relieved Al _couldn't_ show most of what he was feeling openly in his armor body.

Not that it made a difference. Al didn't need to show it for her to know he was almost certainly in worse torment than Ed was.

But then the hope vanished, and Ed's expression became unreadable. "I can't accept that part," he spoke. Winry opened her mouth, but he went on before she could say anything. "I'll move a bed into your workshop," Winry sighed heavily, relief draining strength from her body, "And do the other things you're requesting. But I can't let you hold me. I can't rely on you that much again. These hardships are mine to bear; if I rely on you that much that means you'll be carrying them, and you shouldn't have to."

Granny slapped him on the cheek.

Winry's mouth fell open in shock. "Granny, what are you doing!?"

Granny didn't answer. She got up, walked in front of Al, and then slapped him on his helmet's cheek. Winry winced at the pain that must have caused her, but Granny gave no sign of it.

"Oh, no you don't, you two!" Granny shouted. "Not this time!"

"What are you talking about?" Al asked in confusion. "I don't–"

"Of course you don't agree," Granny replied, "But you're as bad as he is. You _both_ have ridiculous martyr complexes where you almost always take the entire burden of any problem you shoulder upon yourselves. I'd hoped your willingness to involve Colonel Mustang in Amestris' dilemma meant you two were growing up, but I now see I was foolish. You made an exception because you're not complete idiots; even _you two_ are aware you can't save a nation on your own. You're still not willing to allow other people to help you solve problems, your own or others'; you still want to carry the burden of adversity yourself because you think that will spare other people hardship. You, Ed, want to bear everything you carry alone, and you, Al, don't want him to do that and want to help him bear his weights, but both of you want to be the only ones who suffer. You've been that way since you were children, and you got worse when you lost your bodies. While you were at your mother's grave, I had a talk with Armstrong about your lives, and he told me you two frequently get into trouble. I asked him if you let any soldiers help you when you get into trouble because of how hard you tried to spare Winry today, and he said you usually don't. That tells me that hasn't changed since you, Ed, became a State Alchemist. You've been searching for a way to get your bodies back by yourselves and shouldering other people's burdens on your own in the process.

"But guess what? By trying to shoulder your and others' adversity by yourselves, you're causing _more_ hardship for the people who want to help you than they'd be fighting if you worked with them!" Ed's eyes widened in more horror than Winry had seen from them in her life save for before he'd thrown up, Al's widened without being able to show what he felt, and while her insides twisted violently something in her felt joy at the evidence they were now aware how much torment they'd put her through. She frowned deeply. "Going off on your own isn't dissuading the people who want to help you from doing so; it's causing them to try even harder to help you, and adding to their burdens! One day, someone might even place himself or herself at greater risk than he or she otherwise would have to rescue your lives when you get in over your heads, assuming that hasn't already happened! One day, someone might get himself or herself _killed_ saving you!" Ed's eyes widened further. "You're irresponsibly _causing_ harm, not preventing it! I know, for most people other than Winry and I, just as much a reason you won't accept assistance from others is, as you've had to take care of each other by yourselves for so long, you haven't seen they truly _want_ to help you and you can rely on them! But that doesn't make it any less irresponsible with them! You _should_ have seen it! Furthermore, you _do_ see it with Winry! It ends here! I'm not going to let you put my granddaughter through even more suffering because you won't allow her to help you! I want you aware of what you've been doing all these years, and I want it to stop! Grow up, boys!"

Winry's own eyes were wide. She'd thought she knew Ed and Al very well by now, but she'd never seen these facets of their personalities. She'd known they often took too much upon themselves whether it was their own hardship or other peoples' hardships, but she'd never been aware they'd been keeping her, and others, out of their struggles because they thought involving others would hurt them and they should carry the full load themselves, and she'd never known they hadn't been aware they could trust and rely on most of the people who wanted to assist them.

Ed and Al were quiet for several seconds. Then Al turned to Ed.

"Brother–"

Ed held up his hand, more guilt than his expression could show appearing on it.

"I understand." He turned his head to Winry, but didn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry, Winry." From the tone of his voice, he was apologizing for much more than refusing her request to let her hold him.

Al looked away so he wasn't even facing in Winry's direction. "So am I," he spoke. "I'm so sorry."

Something in her felt joy again, and she grimaced.

Ed looked even guiltier, and Winry reassured him, "It's not you."

Ed sighed and said, "Good. All right, Winry. You can hug me."

Winry forced herself to smile. "Thank you."

"No," Ed said. "Thank _you_."

.

Winry knelt at Edward's bedside, and Ed suppressed the urge to shift uncomfortably.

He deserved to be held by her far less now, now that he knew the complete extent of how badly he'd tortured her by keeping her at a distance. He had no doubts Granny was correct. Now that she'd spoken those things to him and made him aware of them, he couldn't believe Winry and all the other people, even adults he'd been even more distrustful of than non-adolescent children and adolescent children because they were adults and he was a child, who had wanted to support him and Al, _didn't_ and _hadn't_ felt the ways she'd spoken they did and had. He didn't know _how_ horrendously he had hurt Winry, but he knew the full extent, and that he'd been tormenting her that much was every bit as unforgivable as everything he'd done to Al. The emptiness still in his stomach in spite of the dinner he'd successfully eaten made it worse, but even if it hadn't been he knew he'd have still been feeling much sicker now than he had at most times in his life at what he now knew he'd done to her. Winry meant almost as much to him as Al, and the thought he'd been hurting her these ways and this greatly for years and been wholly oblivious all this time caused him to wish intensely he'd never be able to eat again without throwing up.

Furthermore, she wasn't the only one he'd wounded this way. He'd done this to everyone who had wanted to support him, whether it was people he'd been aware he could trust like Winry and Granny and Teacher and Sig or people, children or teenagers or adults, he hadn't known he could rely on. Immeasurably worse than that, he'd risked the deaths of many of them. Additionally, that made him even _more_ of a child than he'd thought he was after he'd murdered Nina. It didn't matter he could tell from how he felt Granny was right he'd done it for others' sake; it made it no less wrong and childish. He didn't deserve any support from her, or Al.

He deserved support from everyone who wanted to support him far less now. There was barely any reason to feel good about how, even though he couldn't ask any of them for support because he had to be strong and tough, he could trust more people than Al and Winry and Granny and Teacher and Sig.

Edward was no longer sure he should have been relieved at Winry's reaction to his revelation he'd killed Nina, or he should be indefinably terrified Alphonse hated him. Perhaps Ed should _hope_ Al hated him, and be nothing but bothered at Winry's reaction and at how she was continuing to show Ed kindness. It would shatter Edward if Al hated him and come close to shattering Edward if Winry did, but perhaps he should hope they did and be bothered Winry had reacted how she had and was supporting him now.

And he couldn't rely on anyone but Al this drastically. Edward was still a bratty child, but he and Al had no parents to look after them now. Ed had to be strong, or his legs would break and he wouldn't be able to do the looking after. Gone were the days he could afford to take comfort like this from another person; he was unsure he could even afford to receive comfort like this from Al, even though Al was half of his body in every way but literally. Comfort of this type was a privilege he'd lost when he'd finished his automail rehabilitation, the same as crying was. He couldn't shut Winry out, but this was wrong. He'd believed it was pointless to hide his weaknesses when he'd told her why he was suffering or during the immediate aftermath, because he was openly speaking of why he was in pain, but he'd believed he would just be accepting support from her temporarily then. Now that he knew he had to keep doing so, he had no illusions this wasn't wrong.

But if it was, why wasn't he more than a little disgusted at how much he longed to feel her arms around him again, to rest on her shoulder and feel her heartbeat against his as he'd felt Al's years ago, before Mom had died the first time? He was entirely aware how much he needed kindness now, but there should have been much more disgust he craved _this much_ kindness this badly. The emptiness in his stomach shouldn't have kept him from experiencing it.

Further, why had he given in in her arms in the living room, when Al had needed him to remain strong?

He didn't have time to think about this. It was now clear Winry was waiting for him to tell her he was ready. She'd have pulled him up into his arms by now if she wasn't. He had to say he was; that she was waiting and he hadn't meant he was worrying her further.

"I'm set," he spoke, and though he didn't want this, that was the truth.

Winry's hold was gentle and tight and secure, she was warm, her shoulder was comfortable, and he found himself searching for her heartbeat as soon as he was resting against her torso. He tried to keep his attention off of it, but he became aware of it unwillingly.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with his eyes closed and warmth that could just be Sunlight caressing his face, his body aching and feeling like it wanted to go back to sleep and stay asleep for a week. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, much less why he was so tired. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position so he could lose himself in comforting blackness again.

But no matter how many times he shifted, the aches wouldn't go away.

His brow furrowed. What…?

Then memory returned to him, and he knew what must have happened last night.

His eyes flew open.

His head ached in protest, however, and he closed them with a wince. He waited a number of seconds and carefully opened them again partway, then carefully sat up. After a number more seconds, he opened his eyes fully, and this time his head didn't ache as badly.

Al was still sitting where Edward had last seen him last night, against the opposite wall.

"It worked, Brother," Al's voice sounded so relieved in a way relief couldn't encompass Edward ached all over for a different reason. " _Much_ better than I'd hoped it would. You fell asleep almost as soon as Winry pulled you into her arms and didn't wake up or show any evidence of having a nightmare a single time. You must have been exhausted beyond sanity."

Winry looked over at him from where she was sitting at her work desk, her goggles on, and smiled. "Good morning," she yawned, and Edward experienced guilt he'd slept so soundly while she'd stayed up the entire night working on his automail. "I'd query if you slept well, but I know the answer to that. See what happens when you let your sister share your life?"

Gratitude and longing consumed him absolutely, and he became aware a portion of the emptiness was gone again and this time his aches hadn't worsened. He both wanted and didn't want to say too many things to number them. He wanted to thank her; he wanted to tell her he'd never be able to convey how sorry he was for all the agony he'd put her through, but she could believe he was sorry; he wanted to ask what he could do to take that anguish away; he wanted to beg her to embrace him again; and countless other things.

But he kept his mouth closed. If he was too open with Winry now, she'd feel worse when they left soon, because he knew now she wouldn't take time away from building him new automail to listen to him and Al tell her stories about their adventures. All he'd achieve by being too open would be to throw in her face what she still couldn't have.

In addition, it didn't matter he wasn't disgusted more than a little; how terribly he wanted another night like last night meant nothing. He'd be leaving in three days, and then the emptiness and the nightmares would return. He felt sick and cold, and loss so agonizing it made breathing difficult consumed him utterly, at just thinking about how soon he'd be leaving, but he needed to start getting used to that reality as early as possible.

So he pushed aside his feelings as best he could.

He forced a joking smile he found wasn't fully faked and responded, "I was an idiot, I know it. I didn't need proof."

Winry's goggles prevented Edward from seeing her reaction. Seconds after he'd finished speaking, she questioned, "How are you feeling now?"

"Better," he responded. He looked at Alphonse. "You?"

"I'm feeling better because you are," Al spoke back, and that was more than enough for Ed. He closed his eyes and smiled a smile that was completely genuine.

"Thank goodness," Winry said. "Let's hope this keeps up, then."

.

Ed rested against the back of the couch in the living room, the anguish from Granny's activation of the last part of his automail leg where it rested on a bench support in front of the couch lessening.

He didn't want to get up.

He felt almost fully physically rested now and, though he still ached emotionally everywhere and he was still empty, more ready to face the truth of the hideous reality the Freezer had dragged him into than he had since McDougal had introduced him to it.

But he didn't want to leave Winry. He'd remembered vividly what it was like for her to support him through much of the day and night, but remembering it hadn't prepared him for experiencing it again. Winry hadn't talked to them often while they'd remained in her workshop, talking and trying to discover a new alchemic secret or transmutation circle, but just knowing she had been there in addition to Al had made reality less painful. Further, the second night Winry had held him he hadn't fallen asleep as quickly, and after how well he'd slept the first night and spending the day with her, he hadn't wanted to fall asleep and lose awareness he was in her arms, safe and protected and cared for and sheltered from a reality more terrible and a _self_ more terrible than it should have been possible for things or himself to be. The third night, after he'd slept dreamlessly and soundly again and spent another day with her, had been even worse.

Additionally, the first time he'd had to leave Winry behind he'd had much more hope than he did now. He'd known the path ahead would be incredibly difficult and might lead nowhere, but they'd moved forward from the loss of their bodies and the agony it had caused as much as they could and he'd been _eager_ to head out and face the world and tackle its hardships with Al at his side.

Now, he no longer wanted to face the world, he didn't know how to move forward or even if they could, and it was much harder to believe he and Al could accomplish the two tasks ahead of them.

This time, as much as he knew he had to be strong and tough, as much as he knew it was wrong, he longed to stay here where Winry was willing to do whatever was necessary to take care of him, and he wanted to rest in her arms again so much it was almost a physical thing.

But one thing was no different than the last time.

He still had to go.

So he could no more stay here this time than he could have the first time. Even though he was experiencing aching loss and sickness and cold at his awareness he had to depart today, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he just wanted to rest inside Winry's arms where no pain could touch him forever, he still had to.

So he'd leave this time, as well, no matter how much it hurt to think of doing so.

But he still didn't want to get up.

 _Just a few more minutes. Please._

He ignored the voice and stood.

He moved his new automail arm against his flesh arm, testing how well it moved and its sturdiness, then, when nothing gave and there were no problems moving it, he moved it in circles at the shoulder a few times. That didn't cause it any problems moving, so he walked over to the wall and lifted his leg up upside down against it, pressing it against the wall and moving it. Nothing gave in the leg and it also had no problems moving, so he put it down and turned to Winry and Granny.

"It appears functional to me," he said.

"Good to hear," Winry smiled.

"I need to warn you," she went on. "You need to treat this automail with more care than you've treated the others. I made it more flexible so it will adjust better than your old automail if you grow any more," Edward was too pleased he was still feeling better enough to experience a surge of rage to express it, and something of this must have shown on his face, for Winry smiled again, "But that means it's lighter, and can be damaged more easily."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ed spoke.

"Good," Winry nodded.

Then she looked down, and Edward's stomach twisted violently.

"I'm sorry, Winry," it was Al who talked. "We don't know what to do next to save ourselves, and we're at a dead end in our efforts to save Amestris other than waiting for McDougal to ship us alkahestry texts, but Mustang no doubt wants to discuss our next move and put it in motion as soon as we can. We can't stay another night."

Winry raised her face, and Ed cringed at the tears in her eyes.

"That's what I thought," Winry spoke, and there were too many emotions in her voice for Ed to be able to tell what all of them were. "It's okay. I was able to make your stay here less painful than most of the other things you've been going through recently, and you finally allowed me into your lives. That makes these last days worth it."

"I wish we could say the next time we visit–"

"I know," Winry cut Al off. "You can't be sure you'll have time to tell me about your travels the next time you need repairs. Not until Amestris is safe."

"We'll tell you as soon as we can," Alphonse responded. "I promise. From now on, every step we walk belongs to you as much as it belongs to us."

To Ed's surprise, Winry clenched her teeth. She was silent for a number of seconds, and then spoke, "You don't need to. Just concern yourselves with staying alive, finding a way to overcome your pain, and getting your bodies back and keeping anyone else in this nation from losing theirs. You have more important things to worry about than my foolishness."

Edward's eyes widened, and his stomach twisted violently. "You're not a fool to want to be able to aid us!"

"I'm a fool because I'm more concerned with knowing about your lives for the sake of being part of them," Winry replied, "Not just to be able to help you, than I should be."

"How could we fault you for _that_?" Al sounded extremely shocked. "You're our _sister!_ There's no reason you shouldn't feel that way!"

"Maybe," Winry replied, and Edward sagged. "But the point you don't need to stands."

Ed was aware Al disagreed they didn't need to as much as Edward did, but none of them said it out loud. She almost certainly knew from how they weren't saying they'd do as she requested they weren't going to, but she didn't need to hear her desires were going to add to their burdens openly.

"In any case," Winry spoke again, her voice now as much a mask as she could make it, "If you're leaving today and Colonel Mustang needs to see you as quickly as you can reach him, you might as well go as soon as possible." Ed was surprised; he hadn't believed they might be departing _this_ soon, and he pushed away a surge of countless emotions as best as he could. "I need to catch up on my sleep, and the longer we prolong this, the more painful it will be for all of us. It's best you leave now. Go on and gather your things. I'll be here when you need me again."

Ed pushed away his desire to speak something. Nothing had changed; he couldn't say any of the things he wanted to and didn't want to. Rather, he questioned, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

For a few seconds Edward thought Winry was going to hug him, but she was obviously aware that would make leaving even more agonizing for him, for she didn't.

Edward turned in the direction of his room, where he'd left his clothes and everything he'd brought here and written or drawn while visiting. "See you, then." He was unable to keep his voice from cracking, and clenched his teeth.

"Me, too." Al's voice was a little unsteady, but it didn't crack.

"See you," Winry replied, sounding as if she was holding back tears, but Ed didn't look to see if she was. If he saw she was, he didn't know if he'd be able to continue to keep his feelings at bay.

.

Still exhausted from three nights with barely any sleep but feeling revitalized enough to do an amount of cleaning up before returning to bed, Winry walked into the living room and over to the table to the left of the couch, relative to facing it.

She began to pick up the automail parts on the table and put them in the box on it, but when she picked up one of the surface pieces of Ed's old automail arm, a small screw was revealed beneath it.

She blinked and put the arm piece down, picking up the screw.

A paper label attached to it read, "E-23."

There came a knock at the front door.

Winry started and put the screw down, then walked over to the door. She hoped they weren't about to take on an emergency patient; she wanted to sleep. But she knew that was unlikely; usually, no one visited at Sunset, so someone probably needed a prosthetic in a short period of time.

She opened the door, and her eyes went wide at the sight of two male soldiers in Amestrian blue.

"Are you Winry Rockbell?" one of the soldiers asked. "We'd like to ask you and your grandmother some questions."

.

The moment Ed's eyes fell upon Fϋhrer Bradley standing in front of the four entrances to the train station, empty save for soldiers who were herding the other passengers disembarking from the other train cars back into them and closing the doors, Edward knew something was wrong. The soldiers could have been herding the people back onto the train cars because they didn't want civilians near the Fϋhrer, but the Fϋhrer had no reason to meet them right after they'd returned to East City unless he had even further reason to question their loyalties.

Nevertheless, Edward tried to keep any evidence of nervousness or anything else from his face as he, Al, and Major Armstrong walked up to Amestris' leader.

Major Armstrong assumed a ramrod straight military posture and saluted. "Fϋhrer Bradley, sir. This is unexpected. What brings you to East City?"

"You know the answer to that, Armstrong," Bradley's voice didn't have a trace of pleasantness or doubt, and all the blood drained from Edward's face. He didn't know how it had happened, but somehow, horribly, the Fϋhrer knew.

The game was up when it had barely begun.

Ed's heart pounded, and he resisted the urge to look around for wherever the soldiers who were going to ambush them were hiding or to shift into a battle ready position. If they were going to have any chance of getting out of this alive, he needed all the element of surprise he could get.

But Ed's face must have betrayed something, for Bradley looked at him. "Don't worry, Fullmetal Alchemist," he said. "I'm not here to execute you. If I wanted to, you'd already be surrounded by a firing squad. I'm here to deliver you three a warning."

Edward's eyes widened in utter shock. That was one of the last things he could have believed would happen if the Fϋhrer discovered their treason.

"Which is?" Armstrong questioned, not altering how he was standing, just a little shock and unease in his voice.

"As of last night," Bradley spoke, "Your family, save for Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong, was arrested and taken into custody in a prison within Amestris with a location I won't reveal to you." Armstrong's eyes widened, and every last drop of blood in Edward's veins turned into freezing ice. But no. There was no way they could know about Winry. She was safe.

She had to be.

"They're unharmed as of now," the Fϋhrer continued, "But whether they remain that way depends on your actions from this point onwards. Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda has been transferred to the Southern Command Center, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc has been transferred to the Northern Command Center, Warrant Officer Vato Falman has been transferred to the Western Command Center, and just Master Sergeant Fuery has been permitted to remain here. In addition, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes has been reassigned from his duty at the court martial office to work as my personal secretary in Central, and Colonel Mustang and First Lieutenant Hawkeye have been transferred to the Central Command Center.

"Lastly, in another prison in Amestris with a different location I won't reveal to you, Winry Rockbell and Pinako Rockbell have also been taken into custody."

 _Lying in Winry's arms with his head on her shoulder and feeling her heartbeat beneath his chest and her warmth against him and around him, Edward was filled with a sense of peace and safety he hadn't known for years, not since the last time he'd slept cuddled up to Al when they'd been children. He knew it was wrong to feel this way, but he was just so_ tired _, and everything ached all over, and Nina was dead, and reality was so horrible he didn't want to even think about it, and he didn't want to fight those feelings off. He wished he could stay like this, eyes closed and head on her shoulder, feeling her heartbeat, forever._

Before he realized what was happening, he was charging the Fϋhrer, screaming with more fury than he'd known in his entire life. Reality had vanished, but Edward was barely aware it had, barely aware of anything but the feel of Winry's shoulder beneath his head and her warmth and the feel of her arms around him and the feel of her heartbeat and how now she'd been fully dragged into this hideous reality and her life hung by a thread and he hadn't been able to do the most infinitesimal thing to prevent it hadn't even been _there_ when she'd been taken and now he'd lost her too and he had no chance of rescuing her he didn't even know where she _was_ and who knew what the government would do to her they might torture her they might starve her they might amputate her limbs they might _experiment on her_

The next thing he knew, the handle of a sword was being driven violently into his stomach and the air came rushing out of his lungs and reality came crashing back into him and only now did it register Bradley had moved quicker than he'd even seen Teacher move. Ed sailed backward through the air and the floor of the train station rose up to meet his back and the back of his head hard.

"Brother!" Al cried, horror in his voice, and ran in front of him.

Running almost too swiftly for Edward to see the Fϋhrer move, he came at Alphonse, and slid his sword underneath the front of Ed's brother's helmet, flipping it off.

Then the Fϋhrer's eyebrow rose.

"Apparently you won't be joining the Rockbells," he spoke. "Their well-being will depend on your actions as well."

Edward couldn't reply. He couldn't move. With his attack thwarted, all ability to do anything but lay there and shake violently and breathe had left him.

He wouldn't have moved even if he could have, though. He couldn't physically support Al in a combat situation, and Winry was a captive of people who saw humans as nothing more than lab samples one could buy with spare change.

If Al hadn't needed his brother, Ed knew, this final measureless catastrophe would have prevented reality from returning.

Alphonse crashed to his knees, violently shaking, and Armstrong clenched his hands so tightly his nails drew blood from both palms.

"And me, sir?" Armstrong asked, sounding as if he was speaking through ground teeth.

"You're already stationed at Central," Bradley responded, "So we don't need to transfer you there to keep an eye on you. So long as you cease all treasonous activity, you'll be permitted to carry out your duties as you have up until this point.

"But there's one thing I must know, or I'll order your family executed as soon as I'm in the vicinity of a phone. Is your older sister an accomplice in your treason?"

Major Armstrong snarled. "I wrote her, but I haven't heard back."

"Thank you," the Fϋhrer rejoined. He looked at Edward. "From now on, Fullmetal Alchemist, you'll be stationed under General Hakuro. You're free to see Mustang once he relocates to Central and we can observe him better should you wish to, but you will be closely watched whenever you meet with him. For now, if you're seen in the vicinity of Mustang, Miss Rockbell will be shot. Do I make myself clear?"

Ed had to attempt to open his mouth numerous times before he could, and it took numerous more tries before he could speak. "Yes," he replied. He didn't object. How could he?

"How?" Armstrong questioned. "How did you find out? About us, and the Rockbells?"

"One of my colleagues was ensuring the safety of the Fullmetal Alchemist from Scar when you met with Doctor Marcoh," the Fϋhrer replied.

And then Edward was aware he'd lost any awareness of reality of any kind and it had returned, because he knew Al needed him so much now Al's need before hadn't even brushed the surface of this the lightest amount. Ed didn't know how much time had passed before he'd regained his ability to process thought, however, though he knew it hadn't been long.

But he wished so incredibly much he could completely lose awareness of reality again, and he had to fight harder than he had at any time since he'd stopped crying to keep tears from pushing their way into his eyes. Ed was the one who had told Doctor Marcoh about Winry. Her captivity was his fault.

"So that's why you aren't executing us," Armstrong said. "You need additional alchemists to fulfill your goal. Judging from your words to Alphonse, alchemists who have performed human transmutation are of particular importance to you. Is Doctor Marcoh still alive, then?"

"That's none of your concern," Bradley responded. "You've been given your warning, gentlemen. Do I have your word you'll put an end to your treason, as I've been given Mustang's, or shall I order the people important to you shot or cut them down myself?"

Major Armstrong snarled. "So be it," he spoke through clenched teeth.

There was no way Edward could acquiesce, but right now he couldn't think of a way _not_ to acquiesce, so he nodded once.

"Okay." Alphonse's voice held too many emotions to count them.

Bradley nodded. "That will be all, then." He sheathed his sword. "It was a pleasure speaking with you three. Please do me a favor and retain your soft hearts. I'd prefer not to have to have a conversation like this again, or take more drastic measures."

He gestured to the soldiers at the closed door to the train, turned, and walked toward the nearest entrance, the soldiers following. Major Armstrong ran over to Al's helmet where it had landed on the station floor and put it back on Al before too many passengers could see he had no head, and then the Fϋhrer exited the train station.

And just like that, it was over.

Strength returned to him now that the Fϋhrer was gone, and he got up, but before he finished rising Al was already running in his direction.

Edward ran to meet him, and when he was close enough Al reached out and did something he'd never done since before the night he'd lost his body, because he hadn't wanted to do it without being able to feel his brother. Al reached out and pulled Edward close in a hug.

The cold hardness of Al's metal body wasn't the most infinitesimal bit of comfort to Ed, though. He wrapped his arms around Alphonse as best he could, but he knew for certain again he couldn't give Al any support at all.

Winry and Granny were hostages. All of Mustang's closest subordinates save Hawkeye were hostages, and Ed knew Hawkeye would have been a hostage as well if the Fϋhrer hadn't had an equally effective hostage within easier reach in the form of Hughes; Hughes and Mustang must be close friends. Hughes was a hostage. Armstrong's family were hostages.

Everything had fallen apart, and they'd scarcely started.

Winry was a hostage, and he was the one who had condemned her to imprisonment.

Mustang had been correct. They should have left overthrowing the government up to him. They weren't just incapable, they were a _danger_ to the people they wanted to save most.

The other passengers were giving the three of them a wide berth, many of the people looking at him, Alphonse, and Armstrong with expressions of fear. The people wouldn't have been able to hear anything inside the train, but plenty of them must have seen Edward attack Bradley.

"Why didn't we stay out?" Al asked in a whisper, voice incomprehensibly agonized. "Why didn't we listen to Mustang? Why were we so arrogant and childish?"

"Don't think that way, boys." Tears were streaming down Armstrong's face, but his whisper was reproving. "It's a very good thing you didn't listen to Mustang. Your lack of an official rank in the military means you're now the only two people who know about the Fϋhrer's goals who can still move freely without it raising suspicion. Scar is still at large, but the Fϋhrer knows how badly he was wounded in your battle with him, so he knows Mustang just assigned you an escort out of protectiveness. The military also won't see it as suspicious if you travel without an escort. Maybe we could have launched a coup before without your help, but now you're essential to it."

"How?" Ed inquired in a whisper. Even discussing risking Winry's life and risking losing her immeasurably more wholly than he already had, even though they couldn't do more than just talk about it because he didn't have the tiniest idea what they could achieve on their own, made his stomach heave violently and clench and he knew he would have thrown up anew if Al hadn't needed him, but there was no reason not to talk about whether they could still accomplish anything. "Even if this wasn't too big for us when we were working with you, it is too big for us by ourselves. And we have no one else we can turn to for help but the Freezer."

"Are you sure?" Major Armstrong asked. "Are there any civilians besides the Rockbells you know outside the military who can succeed in unusually dangerous endeavors? Anyone at all?"

"No," Ed replied. "Our other friends in Resembool are typical civilians. They'd be out of their league taking on the military. Furthermore, we have no friends we can trust as well as the ones we have in Resembool anywhere else in Amestris, unless–"

He cut himself off. That wasn't true.

They did definitely have two friends they could trust who lived elsewhere in Amestris, and who could tackle dangers on the level of a national military.

But he and Al couldn't go to them. They were too hopelessly inept, and if they made another mistake, Winry and Granny would be killed.

Making it even more likely they'd commit another error, avoiding making another mistake meant Edward would be carrying the burden of protecting Winry and Granny, and after what Ed had learned about himself in the recent days the concept he could bear the burden of protecting anyone but Alphonse was crazy. Saving people by removing a threat to them was one thing. Edward had done it before many times and could do it again. But protecting people other than Alphonse on a continual basis as Edward traveled through each day was a different thing entirely. It was hard enough just attempting to take care of himself and make it through each day. The concept Ed could take care of _others_ after what he'd learned about himself was insane.

And that meant just bearing the burden of protecting others, even though all he'd have to try to do was something he'd have attempted to do anyway even if Winry and Granny weren't in danger, would make it even harder for him to succeed.

Edward lost all awareness of reality once again, and again he didn't know how much time had passed when he regained it. But he knew why he'd lost the ability to process thought.

Because they had to visit them. He had to fight desperately not to retch even with Al needing him at the thought, and he wished incredibly he wasn't able to be sure, but after doing nothing had killed Nina, he was sure and he knew better than to deny he was sure. They had to visit them.

It wasn't certain Winry would die if they didn't give up.

He became aware the thought of being confronted with the choice between Winry's definite death and saving Amestris had caused his mind to stop processing thought for an unknown amount of time.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another deep breath and more after them.

But that wasn't what he had to choose between. Her death wasn't a certainty. Additionally, if they gave up, that meant there was a greater chance countless others would die or lose their bodies and minds because they would become part of a Philosopher's Stone. It meant there was a greater chance Winry would be killed anyway, or at the least she would be trapped without a body and mind for the rest of her life. It meant it was just as likely. Worse, it meant there was a greater chance _Al_ would die or become a soul in a worse state than he was in now.

So even now they still had to try.

For a number of seconds Ed was the barest thread able to keep his food inside him. He wouldn't just be endangering Winry, he was so hopeless there was an extremely good chance continuing to commit treason would cost her her life and he'd lose her.

But they couldn't abandon the people they were responsible for.

 _Are you out of your mind? You can't risk Winry's life for anything!_

But that wasn't true. Ed completely couldn't believe he was thinking it, and again for a number of seconds he kept his food inside him by the barest thread, but he knew it wasn't true. Winry was almost as invaluable to him as Al, and he couldn't lose anyone else, but no one's life, no matter who it was, outweighed the life of another. Furthermore, Winry might die anyway, or virtually die, if he didn't risk her life. Al might die or virtually die too. If Edward had to choose between Winry being killed for certain and Amestris' death he didn't have the most miniscule idea what he'd do, but her death wasn't definite. He had to keep fighting the Fϋhrer and his allies.

Once more, he couldn't make any other choice.

"It's not a sure thing she'll die," Al whispered, sounding as sick as Edward was, but Ed knew Alphonse was aware of the same things Edward was. "You must see that."

"I know," Ed responded.

He turned to face Armstrong without releasing Al or backing out of his embrace.

"There are two people," he spoke. "And we'll depart to see them on the next train heading south today. My old alchemy teacher, Izumi Curtis, and her husband, Sig Curtis."

.

"Can you still feel it? Can you feel my heartbeat, buried in the right chest?"-Albedo Piazzola

XENOSAGA: Episode 2:

JENSEITS VON GUT UND BÖSE


	6. Subcreations Who Seek the Summation

.

 **CHAPTER 6:**

 **SUBCREATIONS WHO SEEK THE SUMMATION**

.

Alone in her office, Olivier removed the phone from its receiver and held it to her ear.

"This is Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong," she spoke. "What do you want of me?"

"Hello, Major General," Fϋhrer Bradley replied, and Olivier masked her shock. "I'm calling to inform you your younger brother, Alex Louis Armstrong, is a traitor to the state. Should you receive any messages from him, you are not to read them, and if you have received one or more messages from him and have read it or them, you are not to cooperate with him, or you are to cease cooperating with him if you already have been. Your parents and younger sisters have been taken into custody to ensure you comply with these orders."

Olivier stiffened.

"As you command, sir," she said professionally. "I have received a message from him, but I threw it out. As you no doubt know, I despise Major Armstrong. I have no desire to read any attempts he makes to communicate with me."

"Let us hope I can trust your words," the Fϋhrer spoke back. "I have nothing else to talk to you about. Good day."

The line clicked, and Olivier slammed the phone into its receiver, furious in a way she hadn't been for a long time.

This didn't hinder their plans. Fort Briggs was too vital a military base for Bradley to interfere with its operations until he intended to orchestrate massive bloodshed. So long as no one here engaged in activities that had a high likelihood of being treason, the Fϋhrer wouldn't transfer her or any of the Fort's other personnel. That Bradley hadn't arrested her or anyone else stationed here was further proof of that. For the same reasons, he wouldn't risk getting further on her bad side by executing her family if no one in Fort Briggs did anything that had a high likelihood of being treason. Nor was she worried about Major Armstrong; if Bradley had executed him or intended to do so, he would have told her, as he'd told her her family had been arrested. For whatever reason, Bradley wanted Major Armstrong to remain alive. Her certainty Major Armstrong had been given the same threat didn't bother her, as well. Major Armstrong was too soft to do anything that had too high a chance of getting their family killed.

What made Olivier furious was, for the first time since before she'd been assigned to lead Fort Briggs, she was truly uncertain.

What would she do if she was forced to choose between her responsibilities as a soldier looking after Amestris, and her family?

She wanted to believe she'd sacrifice her family without hesitation, because the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, but after all the years she'd been convinced she'd successfully hardened herself enough she was willing to do whatever it took to protect the people depending on her, she knew now she'd been deceiving herself all this time.

There was still a part of her she hadn't hardened as much as she should have.

Further, she didn't know if she was willing to harden that part of her. There were countless reasons she should, but now that she knew it existed, she couldn't keep herself from wondering if it was one of the reasons she had been able to walk the line between being willing to sacrifice any or all of her soldiers if she had no choice and still sincerely caring for the welfare of the troops under her so well. If she hardened that part of her, would she still be able to see the shades of gray in the world, or would everything become the black and white most of her soldiers thought she saw reality as?

She didn't want to know the answer.

But hopefully, her uncertainties didn't matter. Fort Briggs had accomplished hostage extractions before from within Drachman territory. Extracting hostages from their own territory would be no different.

She got up and walked to the nearest radio, then turned the dial on it to Major Miles' channel.

"Miles, it's me," she spoke. "Report to my office as soon as you can. We need to add to our plans."

.

Roy, sitting behind his desk, looked over the line of his most trusted subordinates standing before it, gazing at him with unshakable trust in him on their faces.

He suppressed the urge to wince.

Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman had supported him as skillfully as Hawkeye had, and with just as much loyalty and devotion. They'd backed him up every time he'd requested they limit how involved they got in one of his problems, pulled countless extra hours compensating for his laziness when he'd slacked off, caught him when he was making a mistake so many times thinking he couldn't remember how many didn't scratch the surface, and contributed admirable ideas to his own plans the majority of the times he hadn't been able to think of everything to do to solve a dilemma.

They had their shortcomings and didn't always come through, yes, but he could have asked for no better subordinates.

And now he had to see most of them off to their new positions as hostages, and leave Fuery here as a hostage, without even being able to tell them why their lives had been disrupted so severely, and most of them had been forced to start over miles away from everyone and everything they knew; that their lives had been turned upside down because of something they knew fully nothing about, and weren't involved in the least thread; or even that they _were_ hostages and the freedom they still believed they possessed was now an illusion.

Or did he? Was it safe to tell them?

He looked at Hawkeye, seeking her advice what to do, but she shook her head.

He sighed deeply.

Then he faced all five of them and smiled, keeping all of the anger and intense frustration he felt at what was taking place from his face.

"I won't waste your time with trite maxims such as, 'It's been an honor,'" he began. "I know all you'll do is disagree and say something trite yourselves, such as, 'The honor was ours.' Nor will I tell you I'm willing to give you any support I can from a distance I'm allowed to; I'm certain you're all aware of that. It also goes without saying speeches are unnecessary; none of you need to be reminded of what you've done for me and for the other soldiers of Eastern Command. You're all capable soldiers who speak and act with full knowledge of the effects your words and deeds will have on those around you. I'm not going to encourage you to do your best without me, as well; I have no doubts whatsoever you will. I won't give each of you individual farewells, too; I'd be doing you a disservice by coddling you're when you're about to begin serving without me.

"There are just four words the unexpected need for your departure calls for, and those are the words I'll speak."

Roy stood up and inclined his head to them.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Then he raised his head and spoke, "Don't die."

Falman smiled. "You could have given us a long speech," he said. "You know how sharp my memory is. I'd have recalled every single word."

Fuery laughed. "And I'd have gotten a record so you could put it on it, and played that record as an inspiration to the soldiers here whenever they need it without you yourself present to inspire them."

"We all would have gotten records," Havoc grinned, "And played them for the soldiers at our positions. It would have been a great way to let people know how fine a commanding officer we've had all our time here."

Breda didn't open his mouth, and Roy raised an eyebrow.

Breda chuckled. "I'm not going to turn this into something trite myself. I don't want this to be a typical 'everyone says one thing in response to your final words' farew… ah, the heck with it. I'll contribute. You deserve more than a typical farewell, and I wish we could give you one."

Emotion choked off Roy's throat.

"I don't need one," he replied, the words thick.

He waited numerous seconds to see if any of them was going to talk further, but his subordinates clearly believed the words they'd already exchanged, as little an amount they'd been, had conveyed everything necessary, and there was no point saying anything else.

Roy believed the same thing. He wanted to say more, even though no amount of words could convey how much he valued his subordinates or everything they meant to him. He didn't want to witness them leave, especially now, when they were in the most danger they'd been in since the Ishvalan Civil War and he needed them more than he had at any time before. But Roy knew the soldiers could take care of themselves, he'd still have Hawkeye's support, and saying anything further would just make things harder for all six of them.

So Roy spoke, "You're dismissed, all of you, except Hawkeye."

Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman saluted him in well-practiced unison. "Sir!" they cried.

Then they marched out, one after the other, and Havoc closed the door behind him.

Roy fell back into his chair, and sat there silently, letting his mind submerge itself in memories of the soldiers he could have called his personal squad, and thought of as his team.

He didn't know how much time had passed before Hawkeye broke into his thoughts with a question. "Shall I get you a cup of coffee, sir?"

Roy sat up straight. "No, thank you," he responded. He smiled at Hawkeye. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd been stripped of her as well.

Hawkeye didn't smile back. "Very well.

"We have two hours left until we need to catch our train, sir. You should use that time wisely."

"I intend to," Roy replied. "I've arranged to meet with General Grumman at Tucker's old residence by Grumman's private phone line. Bradley's spies probably won't think I'd return there, so I have little reason to fear they'll discover us there once I lose my tails. Grumman hasn't showed any signs of dissatisfaction with his position, but I know him well enough to be sure, deep down, he's as ambitious as he used to be. I'm certain he'll be willing to join us."

"I agree," Hawkeye spoke back. "What do you intend to ask him to do?"

"Just to use his own judgment," Roy replied, "For now."

"So we're abandoning our hopes of a bloodless coup?" Hawkeye questioned.

"Not yet," Roy spoke back. "But I want to begin preparing for the possibility we'll have to."

"I see," Hawkeye said, her face a professional mask.

After several seconds, she questioned, "Do you have any ideas what to do once we arrive at Central?"

Roy sighed heavily. He utterly hated this. All of Amestris was in danger, and he didn't have a clue what he could do about it himself at present. "None. We're going to have to leave things up to Maes and the Elrics for now. Fullmetal's position gives him more freedom to move around than we have, and I know Maes will be using his own position as Bradley's secretary to try to search the Fϋhrer's office and his residence for evidence we can use against him." He once again pushed away his terror of what might happen to Maes working directly under Bradley and investigating the Fϋhrer while doing so as best as he could. Roy once more told himself it was unlikely Maes would be killed, even if he stuck his neck in the wrong place, because Maes was too valuable as a hostage.

"But I'll think of something. You know my dream; to enable those below me to protect those below them, enabling those protected people to protect those below them, down a chain reaching all the way from to the bottom so everybody is protected. The person who wants to stand at the top of the chain has no justification doing nothing while others are doing the protecting.

"Can I trust you to help me think of an idea, too, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye smiled wryly. "You ought to extend me the same courtesies you extended your other subordinates today, sir. You know the answer to that."

"I am," Roy assured her. "I'm asking you because I don't want to take you for granted, and count on your support without asking if you're willing to give it to me first."

All traces of what Hawkeye was feeling vanished from her expression. "If that's the case, yes, sir, you can."

.

Ed and Al stood confronting the red, wreath-decorated front door of the meat shop attached to Teacher's house. The sign in the center of the wreath read "Open" in all capital letters, but Ed knew better than for him and Al to walk in without knocking.

He _wanted_ Teacher to beat the stuffing out of him, but it would have been too rude for even Edward to be willing to do it, and it would have made Alphonse rude as well.

"What are you waiting for, Brother?" Al questioned, voice a mixture of emotions. "If you're postponing Teacher's possible attack, there's no reason to. I don't care if she strikes me or throws me any more than you do right now."

"That's not why," Edward spoke back. "I don't want her to see me this pathetic."

Even the emptiness that had been there since he'd murdered Nina had barely been able to lessen the all-consuming terror that had taken Edward since he'd discovered Winry had been imprisoned.

He hadn't been able to catch a second of sleep on the two trains they had ridden during the night, but that had meant nothing. His imagination had filled his mind with terrors he wasn't sure even the worst nightmares his mind was capable of creating would have matched. His mind's eye had been flooded with images of countless Chimeras more monstrous and unnatural than the ruined body he'd created for his mother possessing Winry's blonde hair or blue eyes, or most often one blue eye, the other, or others, depending on how many heads the Chimera had, a gaping hole through which he could see all the way inside her head or heads to her brain or brains. It didn't matter how many animals the Chimeras would be composed of; they were all infinite nightmares in ways even his mother hadn't been. The head or heads would be hanging upside down with their necks bent at sickening angles with a bloody protrusion inside their gaping maws from which no tongue extended and with their teeth and nostrils merged with their lips, or their skeletons would be sticking out of their front and back torsos with such deformed structures they should have collapsed with torn tatters of flesh hanging off of them, or their limbs would be twisted and bent so horrifically the Chimeras shouldn't have been able to stand or sit and their muscles would be on the outside of the limbs, or they would possess any number of these things. Or he'd see images of Winry in a human body lying broken on a cell floor with a rack carrying the worst instruments of torture he could think of behind her, her arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles, blood flowing from countless wounds all over her form and bones sticking up out of her skin. In multiple ways, the images he saw of Winry's decapitated head lying on a cell floor, her eyes empty and face frozen in an expression of horror that would now never leave it, or her corpse lying on the floor of a cell with her body riddled with bullets holes and blood pooling on top of and below her, as terrible as they were, were slightly less horrific in comparison.

The first time Ed had tried to eat, he'd retched violently as soon as he'd attempted to swallow until his stomach was too weak to dry heave, and he hadn't attempted to eat again.

He hated himself so much now he would be thankful if Al hated him. It would still reduce him to shards, but he'd be thankful for it all the same. His sins had suffocated _both_ Al and Winry now, and for all he knew Winry had lost her body by now as Al had. Additionally, he was forcing himself to believe they had more than a sliver of a chance at defeating Bradley, but he knew he was hanging Winry's life on a frayed thread. Even both Al's and Winry's hatred were more than he deserved now.

He hadn't reversed his decision. He knew beyond doubt he'd had to make it. But that didn't stop him from hating himself further. He'd tortured Winry for years by keeping her out of his life and now he did _this!?_ How could he be so callous!? True, he didn't know what he'd choose if it came down to choosing between Winry's definite murder and Amestris' murder, but he was still balancing her life on a razor's edge because he was so inept and because he had to protect her. He could never live with that.

He'd kept his hand on the top of Al's head much of the trip, rubbing it, as Al had kept his arm around Edward's back much of the trip, but Ed knew for certain it hadn't made the most infinitesimal amount of difference. Al hadn't said a word about the images tormenting him, but he didn't have to. Edward knew they were just as bad as the ones torturing him, if not worse, if that was possible. He was so useless as a brother Alphonse might as well have been an only child.

Ed was still on his legs, because he had to take care of Alphonse, and he was aware Al was still on his legs for a similar reason, but they might as well have not been.

Edward was such a wreck it meant nothing in countless ways he was walking on his legs, and an embarrassment to everything he stood for. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, even though he wanted Teacher to see him as soon as possible so she could give him the beating he deserved for being a total disgrace to her teachings.

Al sighed deeply. "I know the feeling," he spoke back. "But staying here won't change anything."

Al walked up to the door and knocked on it.

Ed didn't reply. Alphonse had a good point.

Edward suppressed the urge to brace as he heard footsteps inside the shop, or to hope they would turn out to be Mason's. The door opened, and Sig walked out in a full body apron and carrying a curved butcher's knife in his left hand.

Ed forced a smile. "Hello, Sig," he spoke. As Al had said, there was no reason to delay, so Edward got to the point. "We need Teacher's help with something," saying things like that should be safe even though they might be under observation. Bradley wouldn't be able to be sure whether they were talking about Al's body or their treason, "And we need her to beat us up for not proving worthy of what she taught us."

At that, Edward heard more, faster footsteps inside the shop, and then Teacher, clad in a full body apron herself and holding a butcher's knife that wasn't curved in her right hand with blood dripping off it, walked around Sig and glared at them furiously. Teacher must have been working with Sig in the shop. Ed's old reflexes took over, even though he was too depressed to be afraid of Teacher now, and he cringed.

"I beg your pardon, Ed?" she asked threateningly. "The last time I checked, it's not _your_ place to choose when I'm rough with you. It's mine. Tell me what you did, and I'll be the one to choose whether or not to beat you up."

That was correct. Ed hung his head in shame.

"Ed?" Teacher sounded surprised at how he was acting. "What's wrong?"

"If you'll give us permission to come in," Alphonse spoke, numerous emotions in his tone, "We'll tell you inside. We can't talk about these things in public. You probably don't recognize me, but I'm Alphonse. May we please come in?"

Teacher smiled, but there was worry in it, no doubt at what had been in Al's voice as much as how Ed had acted. "Of course. Come on in, and don't worry about the pleasantries, or waiting for us to finish our work." Ed blinked, but he shouldn't have been surprised. Teacher was kinder than she acted. "I've never known you two to appear, sound, or act this troubled, so I'll close up the shop and you two can tell me what you've done wrong and what you want my help with right away."

Then her expression hardened. "But I hope you, too, Al, don't want me to beat you up. If you've lost your manners that drastically, you'll wish I'd beaten the stuffing out of you before I'm through with you."

Al hung his own head. "I'm sorry, Teacher. I have been."

Teacher frowned, and Edward cringed. The look of disapproval on her face hurt much more than he'd believed it would, much more than any beating from her could. But he still needed to get used to it. He was going to be seeing a lot more of it, or disappointment, shortly, and if Teacher agreed to help them, they'd have to tell her about their bodies sooner or later, as much as they didn't want to. They'd be seeing disapproval or disappointment on her face then as well.

"Just come inside and talk," Teacher ordered. "I'll decide your punishments afterwards."

.

The four of them sat around Teacher's circular kitchen table, Ed sitting to Al's left across from Teacher, Al sitting across from Sig.

Teacher's expression was unreadable, and no trace of disapproval had appeared on it during the whole time they'd told her their story, even when they'd told her about Nina, a story they'd altered, telling the lie they'd hoped studying Tucker's biologic alchemy would teach them transmutations that might give then an advantage against the government, so Teacher wouldn't know the real reason they'd sought Tucker's help. Ed had hated lying to Teacher, but the concept of telling Teacher they'd committed alchemy's ultimate sin was too much for him now.

Silence stretched.

Edward didn't know how long they'd been sitting there when Teacher finally sighed.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, and Ed blinked.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Do you want me to say you're liabilities to your friends?" Teacher questioned. "Or you're irredeemably irresponsible? What kind of tongue-lashing are you looking for from me?"

Al sounded just as confused as Edward was. "Why are you asking?"

Teacher's face became gentle, but irritated. "Because the two of you are hopeless idiots, and not in the ways you think you are." What? What had he missed? "You took the responsibility of _all Amestris_ on your shoulders as soon as you found out it was in trouble. You're not irresponsible. You're one of the farthest things from it. So you were cowards, and didn't learn from what I taught you, and made mistakes along the way? So what? Anyone unprepared to rise to a challenge like this would make mistakes, and most people would be frightened by the reality McDougal introduced you to. What's important is you _rose to a challenge_ of this scale when most people confronted with it and with these horrors would flee Amestris and run somewhere as far away from this nation as he or she could. And you _did_ accept death this atrocious is part of the circulation of matter, though it took a little girl's death for you to do it, when most people would hide from that knowledge for the rest of his or her life. You rose to a monumental challenge you weren't the least amount prepared for because you understood your responsibilities as alchemists, and you faced and accepted inhumanity few others would be willing to. You should be _proud_ of yourselves, not _ashamed_."

Ed's eyes widened slightly. He could see clearly Teacher was right.

But he couldn't see what difference that made when they'd still murdered a little girl, and condemned Winry and Granny to captivity, and perhaps torture or experimentation.

Teacher's face lost its irritation. "I know, Ed," she spoke gently. "Proud or ashamed, it doesn't change you did make mistakes. But you needed to know this.

"That established, first things first. Yes, I'll give you a hand, and without killing your enemies."

Edward sagged a little. He and Al hadn't been left to save Amestris themselves. Thank goodness.

It didn't feel strange to be thinking that way. Ed barely cared he would never have been able to see himself thinking this way until around two weeks ago.

"Honey?" Teacher looked at Sig, and Sig nodded.

Then Teacher addressed Edward and Alphonse again. "You're in luck. Sig and I may have run into a way you can begin picking up the pieces a short while ago." Ed felt no hope, however. After they'd located Doctor Marcoh so swiftly for it to end up a disaster, there was no way he could trust they could be lucky. "We recently met an alchemist in Central who knew a lot about the Philosopher's Stone."

"Oh?" Alphonse questioned. "What can you tell us about him?"

"He said he was on the verge of fulfilling the dream he'd had much of his life," Teacher responded. "He appeared very happy when he said it. He gave us his name. What was it? Oh, yes. 'Hohenheim.'"

Edward went stiff, molten fury searing through his veins despite the emptiness inside him, and Al gasped.

Edward ground his teeth. This was one of the last things he wanted to have heard right now, or wanted to talk about. He didn't want to even _think_ about that bastard at the best of times. Now, he wished there was a way he could wipe all knowledge Hohenheim existed from his mind so utterly nothing would be left. In addition, that bastard had already done enough damage. What had possessed him to research the Philosopher's Stone when he already had so many other things wrong with him?

"So," Ed remarked, "He's still alive."

"You know this person?" Sig questioned.

"Yes," Al replied. "He's our father."

Teacher's eyes went wide, but then she smiled. "That's great!" she cried. "See? Your revolt – or, should I speak, _our_ revolt – is far from having been stopped cold. I'll give you all the information we have on where we saw him, and we can be off to Central before the end of the day."

Ed didn't feel any pleasure at the revelation Teacher was willing to leave Dublith to aid them. He was too furious. "Forget it," he snarled. "I'd rather become a piece of a Philosopher's Stone myself than ask that _bastard_ for help." Teacher frowned. "Hohenheim killed Mom. He abandoned us when we were children and Mom had to work herself so hard taking care of us she got fatally ill. I'm glad I've never seen him since he left us. If I meet him one day, I'm going to slug him."

"You know better than that, Ed," Teacher rebuked him. "You're in the same situation with him as you are with Scar. This is much bigger than your personal disputes. We need to find him."

Edward ground his teeth so hard they should have chipped, and he looked for a reason not to search for Hohenheim, but he knew before he tried he wasn't going to find one.

Then his eyes narrowed.

Or was there?

There was no evidence supporting it, but he know how rotten Hohenheim was, so it was very possible.

"It's too dangerous to go to him," Edward disagreed. "He spoke of being close to fulfilling a lifelong dream. For all we know that means his dream is to transmute the people in–"

Alphonse spun in his direction. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Brother!" he yelled angrily. "Dad would never try to do something inhumane!"

Ed met his eyes. "How can you be sure of that?"

"Because he's our Dad!" Al shouted.

"Oh, yeah," Ed rejoined sarcastically. "That's excellent evidence."

"Enough!" Teacher stood up and slammed her hands down on the table, and Ed and Al started reflexively and turned in her direction. "If you want to fight, you're not doing it in my house! Take it outside or shut up!"

Alphonse turned back in his older brother's direction, and Edward knew Al was glaring at him, but Ed stayed quiet. They had no justification arguing this way in someone else's home.

Teacher coughed, "Now that that's settled, though, you do have a point, Ed."

"Teacher!" Al cried in protest. "How can you say that!?"

"I understand you want to trust him because he's your father," Teacher spoke back, "But the reality is, when you're dealing with conspirators and don't know for certain who every last one is, you can't trust anyone you don't already know isn't in on the plot, no matter who the other person is. I want to believe your father would never strive to commit an atrocity, but without surefire evidence he wouldn't, we can't search for him."

Al lowered his head, and Edward cringed, his stomach heaving violently, feeling even more an immature child. He'd just caused his brother new torture at an even worse time now. And as valid a reason Edward had for it, he'd done it because of how much he hated Hohenheim.

Furthermore, he knew he wouldn't be able to take this torment away from Al, as well.

He should be proud of himself? Yeah, right.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to Al.

"It's okay," Al sighed exhaustedly. "I don't like it, but I understand why you hate Dad."

Unable to confront Al, Ed turned back to Teacher. "Do you have any other ideas?"

Teacher smiled at them sympathetically. "Regretfully, no. But you're welcome to stay here until Sig and I think of something.

"That leads me to issue number two: I understand why you wanted me to beat you up, but my principles are still my principles. I won't tolerate that attitude from students of mine. I want you, Ed, to clean the inside of this house from when we finish this conversation until its virtually spotless, and I want you, Al, to sweep and rake the outside until virtually all detritus is gone. Do I make myself clear?"

Ed sighed. That would be a pain in the neck, but there was no arguing they deserved it.

"But maybe you'll be happy to know, Ed," Teacher went on, "I'll give you a beating if you still can't keep your food down when lunch time comes around. I'll give your body so much abuse it'll be too weak to throw up your food again for a few days."

Edward wanted to thank her, but that would be wrong. In addition, now he had to keep his meals in his stomach. If Teacher took care of him to that extent, he'd be relying on her, and while he knew better now than to reject an offer of support, he couldn't accept it if he could take care of himself.

"You don't need to worry about that," he assured her. "I have additional incentive to eat successfully now; so I don't impose on you."

"Good," Teacher smiled. "That's what I thought you'd say."

She looked from one of them to the other. "Is there anything further you want to talk about," was there evidence Teacher knew there was something they were keeping from her in her tone, or was Ed imagining it? "Or shall I put you to work?"

"There's–" Al cut himself off.

"Never mind," Al said. "Maybe we'll talk to you about it later. We'll clean."

.

Al was sweeping the dirt street in front of the shop with a broom, but his mind wasn't on his job. It was far distant, years in the past, trying to recollect memories of a father whose face he just remembered vaguely from a partially obscured photograph hanging with the collage of photos of the Rockbells and the Elrics in the Rockbells' living room, attempting to recall evidence Dad would never treat humans as lab specimens.

But no matter how long and hard he tried, he couldn't recollect anything. He'd been too young. All he remembered were sensations of warmth and safety and an indistinct figure larger than Mom standing or sitting in their home.

But it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Dad was _Dad_.

However, though he loathed admitting it to himself, Brother was correct. That was no evidence. He couldn't believe it, could _never_ believe it, but there was a possibility Dad was a conspirator.

And that meant he had to face that Truth.

He moaned and dropped the broom, burying his face in his hands. Not this. Please, not this. First the Philosopher's Stone and Ishval and Amestris itself, then Nina, then Winry, and each time Brother had gotten worse and Alphonse had been able to do little to support his brother. After how terribly his brother was taking Winry's captivity, if Alphonse hadn't known there were answers out there, he may have thought Brother might as well have been an only child for all the comfort Al could give his brother. Now even _Dad_ had become part of this limitless nightmare defying nightmares. When would it stop? How much more was he going to have to bear?

He wished he'd told Teacher about their bodies. He'd stopped because he didn't want to put Brother through her reaction, but his fears and anticipation of how Teacher would take the discovery was one source of torture he could have put an end to.

He wanted this all to end _so badly_.

He knew wanting that was no different than not confronting or accepting the truth, but it hurt on a level he hadn't been prepared for even after years of living with the knowledge Brother had sacrificed his arm to save him, and as horrifically defying horrifically, because Brother might not be able to get his arm back. Additionally, as Alphonse knew Brother's body did, Alphonse's soul ached everywhere throughout every single thing it was, so terribly he didn't want to move. He was determined not to give up again, and he could never do nothing again after doing nothing had murdered Nina any more than Brother could. So because Al had to battle to save Brother and Amestris, he wasn't letting himself believe there was a thread to no possibility they could save Amestris after their unspeakable mistake had sentenced Winry and Granny. But that was little, if any, comfort.

Just as horrible in countless ways, for the first time in his life, he was experiencing something he'd never felt before, something he should never have been _able_ to experience, and he felt so guilty and ashamed he was experiencing it he didn't want to be in the same village or town or city as anyone else again for the rest of his life.

Hatred.

After he'd been powerless to save Nina, he _hated_ being wholly helpless to do anything to save Winry and Granny. He knew it was absolutely wrong, and he should never hate anything or anyone, but though he could push the emotion away, he couldn't erase it from his heart.

His inability to do so caused him to wish he was human so he'd violently throw up his food whenever he attempted to eat.

He wanted this all to end so badly he almost wanted to kneel down and plead Brother to transmute him out of his blood seal and back into oblivion.

And why shouldn't he want it to end? He was a bratty child. If there had been the most infinitesimal bit of doubt that was true, their condemning Winry had removed it. And bratty children just wanted their suffering to–

He heard the sound of the broom rustle.

His attention broken from his thoughts, he uncovered his eyes and looked down to see a crumpled up piece of paper had rolled into it.

What?

He picked it up and made it flatter. Nothing was on the side facing him, so he turned it over.

A message and a map of Dublith with an "X" at a location was on the other side.

"'We know your secret,'" he read out loud. "'Meet us in front of this bar if you want to talk.'"

His first impulse was to investigate this himself. Brother and Teacher were so heavily burdened now he couldn't think of a term to quantify it.

But Granny's words were still clear in his memory.

" _By trying to shoulder adversity by yourselves, you're causing_ more _hardship for the people who want to help you than they'd be fighting if you worked with them!"_

He couldn't look into this himself. If something went wrong, that might make things even worse for Brother and Teacher.

He sighed and looked around, then, once he saw no one else was within sight, he lifted up his helmet and dropped the piece of paper into it. He couldn't tell Teacher whoever wanted to meet with him knew a secret of his. He'd have to just tell her the person or people who wrote this note wanted to meet with him for an unknown reason.

He headed quickly for the door into Teacher's house proper.

.

Three people were waiting for them near a door-shaped opening without a door Al assumed led into the bar. One was a short, bald male with warts clad in rags, the other a taller male with short black hair that swept backwards and upwards garbed mostly in white and carrying a sheathed sword on the back of his waist, and the third was a tall woman with short blonde hair wearing a dark blue shirt and light gray pants.

The figure with short black hair walked up to them, his face a mask. "We'd assumed you'd come here alone, but you know what they say. The more, the merrier. Still, if you want us to tell you what we know about you," Al shifted when Teacher didn't give him a look. She did already know, or at least suspect, the truth about them, "You'll need to come inside alone. What we have to say isn't for anyone's ears but yours."

"But I learned from Teacher I shouldn't go anywhere with strangers," Alphonse replied. "I'm sorry, but if you won't talk to us all, I can't discuss anything with you."

The male looked exasperated. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Al spoke back. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Then you're old enough to think for yourself," the person responded, and Al jolted. He'd never realized it, but it appeared blindingly obvious now that the figure had said it. He _wasn't_ thinking for himself, and most of the time he didn't. Most of the time he followed where Brother or someone else led. He took care of Brother, but other than that Alphonse never took his own path. "You should step out from your Teacher's shadow, and make your own choices about what to do. Otherwise you'll never get anywhere."

"You're right," Al answered. Teacher gave him a warning look, but he ignored it.

The male smiled. "Then how about you start by coming w–"

Alphonse spin-kicked him backwards onto the street. "I've made a different decision by myself. I've decided to force you to tell me what you know out here."

Teacher snorted, and smiled. "And now that Al wants to fully stretch his legs, we intend to give him all the help we can. If I were you, I'd just talk and spare yourselves the pain. I trained Ed and Al personally, and I can take three thugs with my eyes closed."

"You ought to count again," a voice said from within the doorway, and then a large male with short gray hair and a gray uniform charged out of the doorway at Teacher.

Teacher's left knife-hand jabbed against his neck, and he staggered back, gasping for air. Teacher dropped into a sweep kick, sending him staggering back even more off-balance, and then, with a speed few professionally trained martial artists could match, she rose and, using his momentum against him, seized his head and slammed it into the cobblestone street.

"Roa!" the woman shouted, running at Teacher and kicking at her with her right leg, and then, impossibly, her right leg _stretched_ out in Teacher's direction, spinning like a coiling snake.

But Teacher was too experienced to be caught off guard. She grabbed the spinning leg and sped up its spinning, then used the momentum of the spin to hurl the woman against the wall of the bar.

The figure with the sword had regained his feet and the two other males had rushed Brother and Alphonse, but by now Alphonse had fallen low and kneed the figure in rags in the chin, sending him flying to the street. The person with the sword had unsheathed it and swung it at Brother in one smooth motion, but Brother had blocked the sword with his automail arm and then shoved it up into the air, after which he'd tackled the swordsman and sent him back to the street.

Teacher walked back, dusting her hands off. "Convinced yet?" she questioned with a smirk. "Or do you want us to break a number of your bones?"

The large male the woman had named 'Roa' groaned and got to his feet, clutching the back of his head. "Our informant was right about you," he said to Teacher. "You know your moves."

He looked at the swordsman, who was getting up a second time. "What do you think, Dolcetto? Do you think we should show them what we are too?"

"There's no reason to take that risk," another voice entered the conversation before Alphonse could ask what Roa meant, and another male with short unkempt black hair, glasses, black pants and a black coat, and a dark red shirt, walked out from the door into the bar. At the sight of what was on the back of his left hand, Al gasped, and all thoughts of what these people were fled his mind. His brother swore. "Not when we have the option of working out a deal."

"The Uroborus tattoo!" Brother cried. "I'm sorry! We didn't know you were an ally of the Fϋhrer's!" The person's eyebrows raised over his glasses. "We came here because we believed you might know a way we could restore our bodies!"

Al was too terrified for Winry to care Teacher now knew they weren't whole for sure.

"So even someone with as powerful a position in the country as Bradley has is working for Father now," the figure with the Uroborus tattoo spoke, and in spite of his terror for Winry, Al experienced a surge of excitement. He hadn't doubted this person knew things about the Fϋhrer's plans, and who was genuinely in charge of Bradley's efforts, he and Brother didn't yet, but not doubting it and knowing for certain this person did were two different things entirely. "It's a good thing I confirmed your tails stayed at the train station," so they _had_ been under observation. Al wished he had teeth he could clench, "before sending Bido to deliver the note. Don't worry. I threw away the rest of my cozy family a long time ago. I'm not with them any more, and you have no reason to fear I'll tell them about this confrontation. I can't. They consider me a traitor now, and if I spoke to one of them I'd be in danger."

"We're supposed to believe that?" Al's brother replied skeptically.

"I never lie," the male responded, "But I know better than to believe you'll trust that. So think about this. If I was with the others, the Fϋhrer would have ordered Alphonse Elric to come with him during your meeting at the train station in East City. He wouldn't have wasted time letting you travel down here for me to try to lure Alphonse to me. Additionally, if I wasn't with the others and was willing to lie, I wouldn't be telling you I'm not with the Fϋhrer. Since you were stupid enough to reveal that weakness to me, I'd be using it to coerce you to obey my will."

Those things made sense, and Alphonse felt his terror lessen extremely slightly.

"I was going to say similar things," Teacher responded. "But if you're not with the Fϋhrer, how do you know about that confrontation? And how do you know about Al?"

"Someone from Dublith who knows me was on the train that stopped in East City when you met Bradley," the person spoke back. "He saw the Fϋhrer take Alphonse's helmet off, and came on the trains you did to report to me Alphonse has no body inside that armor." Al was still too terrified to feel anything. "In addition, he saw the Elrics with you on multiple occasions when they were down here years ago, so because he was aware they were on the same trains he was taking, he knew where we would find Alphonse. Hence the note."

That was believable, and the fear decreased another extremely slight amount. But just another extremely slight amount. It couldn't lessen further when Winry was at stake.

"A plausible story," Teacher spoke. "All right. I believe you, and I believe you don't lie. But what do you want with Al?"

"If you'll come inside with me," the figure responded, "I'll answer that. I'm taking a large enough risk discussing these things with you out here. The reason I wanted to meet Alphonse is even more dangerous to talk about than what we've been discussing."

Teacher crossed her arms didn't say anything back for several seconds. Then she said, "Very well." Brother looked at her in shock, but Al knew why she'd spoken this. "But in exchange, you have to tell us what you know about the Fϋhrer's allies with the Uroborus tattoo, and their goal. You talked about making a deal. This will be the deal. If you tell us what you know, and the information you want from Al won't hurt anyone and he can give it to you without us needing to leave him here, he'll provide you that information. Do we have an agreement, or would you rather chance exposing your underlings' secrets to the outside world?"

His brother clenched his teeth, and Alphonse was aware why. These people had undoubtedly been trying to take Al captive by force. Even though they needed to know whatever the figure with the Uroborus tattoo did, Brother must loathe the concept of making a deal with this person even more than he loathed the concept of allying with Scar.

The male sighed. "It's a deal. Make yourselves at home."

.

The person with the Uroborus tattoo led them down descending stairs into the bar, and then into a back room with walls of gray tile. As they traveled through the rooms and halls of the bar, a male with a red shirt and a blonde mohawk joined them, curiosity on his face.

Ed didn't care. He barely cared they might be about to learn more about the Fϋhrer and his co-conspirators this early in the game after all. He was too worried about Winry's state, and about losing her. It _didn't_ make any sense Bradley wouldn't have taken Al with him in East City if this figure was lying about having betrayed his fellows, or that this figure wouldn't have pretended to be with Bradley if he was willing to lie, and that made it very likely this person was telling the truth and was unwilling to say anything that wasn't true. But as likely as it was the person was being honest, things had gone wrong too horrifically for that to lessen Edward's terror much. And he extremely highly doubted _any_ proof the male with the Uroborus tattoo could give them, even if it was watertight and irrefutable, would lessen his terror much more, if at all.

Once they were all inside the room and the person had closed the door behind them, he walked in front of them and turned to face them, crossing his arms.

"Where should I begin?" he inquired.

The question was obviously rhetorical, but Edward, his guard up in case this was a trap, replied anyway. "How about you start with what your underlings are? I can think of an explanation for the woman's ability to stretch and coil her leg, but there's no way they can be Chimeras." He banished a memory of Nina's unnatural form from his mind. "No one has been able to fuse animals with humans that completely. It can't be done."

"There's no such thing as 'can't be done,'" the person with the Uroborus tattoo replied. "You should know that better than most. Look at your brother. They _are_ Chimeras, transmuted by a group of the military's best alchemists and experimented on until they escaped the laboratory. The person in the red shirt was combined with an alligator. Roa?" He looked over to the large uniformed male. "A cow, right?"

"A cow," Roa responded.

"Martel," the figure with the Uroborus tattoo told them, "The woman, was fused with a snake. Everyone but you three in this room are 'scientific successes worthy of medals.'"

"You've made your point," Edward replied. "I was an idiot for doubting they were Chimeras. I know how the Philosopher's Stone is transmuted, about the souls underground stretching through Amestris," the male's eyebrows rose, "And about the nationwide transmutation circle. You're right. I know full well 'can't be done' is the belief of the uninformed who don't know their world is built on a deception."

"Well said," the person responded. "The world you live in is just the surface of the onion. Beneath it, the layers of the real world lie in the shadows, each one harder to see because peeling deeper and deeper into the inside of the onion brings more and more tears into your eyes. But this shadow world is the real world; obscured, but no less the marrow that gives shape to the structure.

"And you?" Alphonse questioned. "What were you combined with? And are the others with the Uroborus tattoo the same?"

"I wasn't combined with anything," the male responded. "I'm a scientific success of a different kind, or perhaps I should speak, 'scientific accident,' since that's how my progenitor was transmuted. Do the three of you know what a Homunculus is?"

Now Edward did care about what the figure had to say. Shock erupted through him.

But he pushed it away. This was more stupidity. If the government had been able to transmute thousands of complete Philosopher's Stones, it was plausible an artificial human could exist. He didn't know how, given his firsthand experience with how difficult transmuting natural humans that had already lived on the planet was, but he could believe an artificial human could be transmuted from scratch.

Ed crossed his own arms. "You're telling us you and the others with the Uroborus tattoo are Homunculi? I can believe that, but I'd like proof."

The male shrugged. "Suit yourself." Dark blue crawled up his arms past his wrists, and Edward felt irritated he was still surprised. "Have a punch at my hands."

Ed obliged, socking the figure's right hand with his left, flesh hand. Edward struck a surface as hard and as unyielding as diamond.

He pulled his hand back. He trusted the person didn't lie, but in numerous ways Edward's willingness to trust this figure grew a little. Unless this turned out to be a trap and the figure could afford to reveal his advantages to his enemies, he had no reason to unveil strengths he could have used to catch them off guard.

"This is my Ultimate Shield," the male Ed was now sure was a Homunculus spoke. "We can also heal from anything, even fatal wounds." Alphonse gasped, and Edward was aware why. Did that mean the Homunculus was immortal? That _was_ something it was almost impossible for Edward to believe. Even if the Philosopher's Stone could shatter the laws of matter, death was too much a part of it to be defied. How the Philosopher's Stone was transmuted proved that even more unarguably. "Observe."

The Homunculus brought his left hand up, and sliced his throat open. The Homunculus' head fell forward limply and blood flowed out of the wound, but after a few seconds red currents coursed up from it and it closed, the flow of blood ceasing. His head came back up.

Reality reeled and tilted violently.

But Edward knew he was being foolish, one way or the other. Reality stabilized. "That doesn't mean he's immortal," Ed spoke to his brother. "He didn't say he could heal indefinitely, or doesn't age."

"That's correct," Greed said, and Edward felt relieved. It was good to know _something_ he'd believed to be the truth wasn't an illusion. "I wish I was immortal, but I'm not. I don't age, but this body has its limits."

"All right," Teacher spoke. "We're convinced. How are Homunculi transmuted?"

"My brethren and I were transmuted out of pieces of souls inside true Philosopher's Stones," the Homunculus responded, and now Ed's eyes widened. _Pieces_ of souls? But he pushed away his disbelief. These Homunculi were more malleable than natural humans. He could even believe they could be comprised of parts of a soul as opposed to the entire thing.

At the same time Edward experienced an even more powerful surge of desire. This confirmed it. The Philosopher's Stone could transmute bodies, even if they were unnaturally malleable ones that weren't human in the fullest sense of the word. Ed sighed.

"My Homunculus father wants to attain perfection," the Homunculus was continuing, "And to that end he's been extracting his deadly sins from himself and putting them inside Philosopher's Stones. Those are the soul pieces that make us who we are. I'm the sin of Greed, and that's also my name. It's a pleasure to meet the three of you."

He extended his hand.

None of them shook it.

"What about your father?" Edward questioned. "You spoke of him being transmuted by accident, but do you know anything at all about the transmutation that might give us clues as to what the ingredients and equation were?"

"All he's told us is the transmutation involved the blood of a human," Greed replied, "And he was born from something called 'the Truth.'"

Ed's eyes went wide, and he heard two gasps.

It took a few seconds for him to register one of them had been Teacher's, and it had been the gasp of someone who was personally acquainted with something that had been referred to, and he jolted violently. Teacher knew what the Truth was.

The sheer stupidity of that thought crashed over him like a wave. Of course she did. How could she not have? Teacher could transmute by clapping her hands. But without any evidence she could for the same reason he was able to, he'd never thought she'd committed the same sin he had. What had he been thinking? How could he have believed there was another explanation?

"So all three of you know what that is," Greed said. "Interesting."

Teacher gave Al, then Ed, a sympathetic, understanding look, then turned back to Greed. "That has no bearing on our deal. Can you tell us anything about what the Fϋhrer and the other Homunculi have planned, or where we can find evidence of their crimes?"

Greed laughed. "'Anything' about what they have planned?" he queried. "I can tell you almost _everything_." Ed jolted, as did Alphonse, and Teacher's eyes widened, but Edward suppressed the surge of hope. Greed hadn't spoken he could tell them where they could find evidence of it. "Furthermore, I can tell you where their base is," desperate hope consumed him utterly Winry was within the base, but Ed squashed it. He had completely no reason to believe that. But he now let the rest of the hope that wanted to rise do so, "How to find Father's home inside it, what the other four Homunculi Father had given birth to before I left who are still alive, and Father himself, look like, and what they can do. I don't know where the center of the nationwide transmutation circle is within their base, but I can tell you anything else that's important about their plans, and give you specific directions to locations you might find evidence. Father entrusted all of us with helping him realize his dream, and that included me before I parted ways with them."

Edward clenched his teeth, his inability to trust in luck now replaced by intense frustration. He didn't know for sure they were too hopeless to save Amestris, so they _might_ have gotten a lucky break, as beyond unbelievable as it was. Someone with an Uroborus tattoo had been hiding in the same town Teacher lived in, and he knew what the Homunculus he called 'Father' wanted the special Stone for, where they'd very likely be able to find evidence that could turn the general Amestrian military against the Fϋhrer and the Homunculi, and where they might find the other Homunculi, robbing the Homunculi of one of their advantages and giving the revolutionaries a greater chance of avoiding bloodshed. If not for the hostages Bradley had taken, this dance of intrigue might be over without any violence, and the nation safe, in a matter of weeks.

But Ed knew he was being idiotic. If Bradley hadn't taken his hostages, they wouldn't have traveled to meet with Teacher, and Greed wouldn't have found out about Al this soon. They'd gotten this lucky break _because_ Winry had been taken prisoner; it wasn't preventing them from taking advantage of it.

Edward took a deep breath, and also. "Good. You said your father is the one calling the shots, so start with what your father wants his colossal Stone for."

Greed scowled. "I'll answer questions, and I let your Teacher decide on our deal for the sake of keeping my possessions safe," Ed frowned at that, but Greed was concerned about his underlings' safety, so that was no evidence Greed was mistreating them, "But _don't_ give me orders. I don't answer to anyone. People answer to me."

"Could you please start there?" Alphonse replied.

Greed smiled. "That's better.

"Father wants to become a perfect being. To fulfill that desire, he wants to acquire God."

Edward blinked. "Your father was born from the Truth, but he believes in God?"

"Not an anthropomorphic or mysterious spiritual being watching over all of us from heaven," Greed corrected him. "None of us Homunculi save Father are alchemists, so even with our extensive knowledge of alchemy we don't know if you have any myths or theories about this as you do the Philosopher's Stone, Homunculi, and immortality. But there's more to the Portal of Truth than the individual Portals that exist within all humans." Ed's eyes widened. The Portal of Truth wasn't a single thing, and it was part of humans, not distinct from them? "Those Portals are the 'Ones' within the 'All,' and they possess microscopic fragments of the knowledge within the Truth."

Ed staggered back as if struck, and reality reeled and tilted violently again. Even after everything else he'd learned, this was too much for him to process.

"I assume that means a complete repository of knowledge about everything in reality exists somewhere," Al responded, beyond shock clear in his voice, "Then, within a greater Doorway of Truth an alchemist can access. Is that what you're implying?"

"Indeed," Greed spoke back. "The planet we stand on is a life form," Edward was having too much trouble taking in Greed's revelation the full knowledge of all of existence lay within the Truth to feel much about this, "– No, a vast nervous system – that receives and stores all the knowledge every 'One' in existence provides. Portals of Truth, the human mind, single hydrogen atoms, everything. The planet's nervous system holds the sum total of all the memories within the universe it has witnessed unfold. This is the God Father believes in. This is the knowledge you need to experience to learn the entire Truth. And the Gateway of Truth leading to these memories is the supreme Gateway of Truth."

Edward twisted the skin of his left arm with his automail fingers hard until the pain caused his mind to work correctly again. "Does your father want the special Stone to open this Gateway?" Ed's voice was unsteady.

He wanted to argue possessing all the knowledge of existence itself didn't make the planet's nervous system God, but he couldn't. The Truth was the solution to all questions. If the planet's nervous system literally stored everything there was to know, what else could it be called?

God was real. It was irrefutable.

Once more, everything had been turned upside down.

But this wasn't the time to look at what he thought and felt about how God actually existed. He pushed it aside to confront later.

"No," Greed responded. "He's unwilling to waste any of that Stone for that purpose. He needs it for another task. He desires to use five alchemists who have participated in human transmutation as the toll for opening the Gateway." So that was why the Fϋhrer had spared them. But Edward felt no relief. Al might not become part of a Philosopher's Stone if they failed to defeat the Fϋhrer and the Homunculi, but the Portal would take him again, and that was no better. "A previously opened Portal acts differently than a Portal that hasn't been opened, and these Portals, when transmuted a specific way," Ed's eyes went wide. You could transmute a _Doorway of Truth_? "Will repel each other in our dimension, and give off incomprehensible amounts of energy on this plane in the process. This energy is what Father intends to use to pay the toll." Since the one called Father was going to exchange energy to open the Gateway, did that mean Alphonse wouldn't be taken? But there was no way to know that one way or the other, so Ed didn't feel any less terrified for Al. "The mammoth Philosopher's Stone is for the purpose of containing God within his own body."

Edward held his head. Reality was an onion for sure. What McDougal had revealed to him had hardly even begun to cut into how many layers there were to it.

"Why does he want to do that?" Teacher asked. "Wouldn't opening the Gateway teach him everything he wants to know to become omniscient and 'perfect?'"

"That's not how the planet's nervous system works," Greed explained. "Its knowledge doesn't engrave itself in your brain if you see it. You have to take the nervous system into yourself to possess its information; if you don't, opening the planet's Gateway is pointless."

"I see," Edward spoke. "So he wants to be the ideal alchemist, huh? Someone who has learned all the Truth science can uncover, and someone who is literally a God." Now that he knew it was possible to discover the whole Truth of all of reality and all the answers to every mystery and problem in existence, and one could _genuinely_ become God, he regretted his words to Rose even more, and not just because the cost of attaining the answers to everything was so indescribably high. "How admirable." The sarcasm dripping from his voice should have made it evident he thought it was anything _but_.

"That," Greed responded, "And he wants to fulfill the ideal of all living beings; to become more powerful and better, to become perfect." Ed scowled. That was ridiculous. Since when did every living thing seek perfection? "Furthermore, he wants to be free of all constraints. He started his life as a formless creature dependent on the flask he was trapped in to live. All binds are anathema to him, and this has caused him to want to live free of the laws of the universe. If Father consumes God, he'll be able to do that. Think of how much power Father will have if he learns all the knowledge of reality."

The room reeled and tilted violently further. No way. Even though the world was an onion, that _had_ to be impossible. If you flew too close to the Sun your wings melted. There was no escaping that.

Right?

But the Truth governed reality, and was the answer to all dilemmas. If you genuinely could learn the total Truth about all the universe, how could learning all the Truth and how to follow every single law there was _not_ enable you to do almost anything you wanted to do?

Everything had been turned on its head once _again_ , this time seconds after the last time reality had been upended. The Truth was supposed to define your place in the flow of nature, not tell you how to break free of it.

Now Edward was thankful he was so terrified, or worse, of so many things. He didn't have the capacity to feel much more terror now, at the knowledge alchemy had the capacity to be even more horrible than he'd believed it could be, at the discovery what he'd believed in was even more ghastly than he'd thought it was, or anything else.

"It doesn't matter, Brother," Al said, his tone making it obvious how difficultly he was taking all this. "Greed's father isn't going to be able to acquire God, and there's no other way to abuse the Truth. What he can do by obtaining all of it is moot."

Edward took a deep, shaking, shuddering breath. "I know."

"Ahem," Greed spoke, and Edward and Al looked back at him. "I'm not done. Father needs to accomplish two other things to acquire God. The planet's Gateway of Truth can just be opened at the height of a solar eclipse. A perfect being can't be transmuted if the Sun and the Moon aren't intersecting; that's a vital part of the equation. Judging from how many crests of blood he's carved by now, he intends to harness the solar eclipse this upcoming June."

Al gasped, and Ed couldn't believe what Greed had just said for a different reason now, and in spite of his terror for Winry and the emptiness and everything else, Ed felt lighter and reality became stable. This was excellent news. Then they had longer than they'd hoped they would to stop Bradley and the Homunculi, and to delay them from causing massive slaughter at Fort Briggs. If depopulating and burning Liore had delayed Greed's father enough, they might have already set him back _years_ , maybe even _decades_ , depending on how long it took for another solar eclipse to occur in this part of the world.

Could Ed have truly heard this?

But he was certain he had.

Thank hydrogen.

"What's the other thing?" Edward questioned.

"The planet's Gateway of Truth is comparable in size to Amestris." That was a shock Edward could deal with much better. "Father needs a massive soul body to pass through it. That's another reason he spread the thing beneath Amestris; he doesn't just need it to cripple any alchemists who oppose him, he needs it to transmute the soul body. He's also spread a greater body separate from his core body throughout his base that possesses a Stone, a Stone he'll transmute with to make the greater body function as the soul body's core. I'll warn you now; Father can control this greater body as if it were one of his limbs, and it's amorphous. If you take him on, he'll be able to use it to fight you."

"We're trying to keep it from coming to that," Al rejoined. "We want evidence of your family's wrongs and those of the government to turn most of the military against them, so they'll have little support and might be willing to give up without a struggle."

Greed laughed. "A pleasant dream, kid, but that'll never happen. My family sees humans as beneath them. They'll never surrender to any humans, no matter the number."

Edward's stomach dropped out from beneath him, all the lightness vanishing. "What?" he gasped. No. The Homunculi couldn't use the shadows to their advantage as well now, and they numbered no more than seven. They had to be able to avoid bloodshed now. They had to.

But he knew without having to think about it his hopes had been shattered. Greed knew his family, and Ed knew nothing about them. If Greed was sure they'd fight back, Ed would have to accept that.

But he wasn't going to resign himself to the necessity of letting McDougal or others kill anyone yet.

 _Go ahead. Don't learn resolve. But don't delude yourself into thinking you can still prevent_ anyone _from being killed. You saw what Greed can do. If the Homunculi fight back, soldiers are going to die._

Edward ignored the voice. He'd never tried this hard to prevent death in his life. If he kept trying it would make him even more irresolute, but after trying this hard, he wasn't going to give up on keeping it from happening that easily. If things worked out he'd have most of the national military on his side. There might be a way that many people could defeat the Homunculi without anyone being slain.

"All right," Ed sighed. "Then we'll capture them. A national military can achieve that, regenerative abilities or not. What are their strengths and weaknesses?"

Greed snorted. "I wish you the best of luck.

"But a bargain's a bargain. The nationwide transmutation circle is being dug by a Homunculus known as Sloth, the Indolent. He's large and muscular, with black hair. Like me, he has a hard skin, but unlike me, it's hard _all_ the time. Not as hard as mine when I've shifted my body into my Ultimate Shield, though. You'll be able to injure him with cannons, grenades, or weapons that can strike him with comparable force. He's extremely strong, enough he could pick up a tank with effort, he wears manacles attached to two large chains he can wield as weapons, and he can also move so swiftly you can barely see him move. He didn't make the effort to learn to control his momentum during the time I was with the others, though, and I extremely highly doubt that's changed, so his ability to move so quickly is both a strength and a weakness. True to his sin, he's incredibly lazy. You shouldn't even need to worry about him running at his fastest unless he's specifically ordered to kill someone.

"There's also Envy, the Jealous. He can shift portions of or all of his body into anything or anyone he's seen, but his preferred form is a young male with long dark green hair." Edward's eyes widened. Homunculi were _that_ malleable? "His true form, however, can barely be called human. It consists of two parts; a giant dark green eight-legged beast with a tail that couldn't even be called an 'artificial human' if not for all the moving human bodies and body parts attached to it," even though it had been seared into the deepest reaches of his brain alchemy could transmute indescribably ghastly creations, Ed still cringed. This part of Envy's true form must be a horror of its own, "Fashioned to do part of the job of cobbling Envy together out of the souls in his secondary Stone. He can change the shape, size, and length of his true form's tongue as effortlessly as he can shapeshift in a humanoid form, so watch out for that if you anger him enough he becomes willing to show you his true form. The other part of his true form is a small dark green eight-legged embryo with a tail. This form's Stone consists of nothing but Father's extracted jealousy, so it can't regenerate, but it isn't helpless. Envy's embryo can take control of any living body he bites, and kill that body by stopping his or her heart.

"Gluttony is bald, fat, has a sense of smell so sharp it extends for miles, he can eat almost any substance with his teeth, and his appetite is worthy of his sin. His weight isn't a handicap to his fighting ability at all. Additionally, any humans he eats are converted into souls for his Stone. His greatest strength isn't his teeth, however, but the thing he keeps hidden in his torso. Gluttony is a failure; Father tried to transmute a Portal of Truth," Edward gasped, "As a stepping stone to transmuting a Gateway of Truth to the planet's nervous system he could control, but even with a Philosopher's Stone, his genius, and his knowledge as a life form born of the Truth, he couldn't transmute a Doorway." Ed didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. If it was possible to transmute a Portal, that would have made alchemy even _more_ dangerous than Edward now knew it to be, and it would have been a shock he would have had a hard time believing even now, but it might have also given them a means of getting back their bodies. "He ended up with a facsimile Portal that sends whatever it takes in to a plane between reality and the Truth, from which there is no returning. The facsimile Portal swallows things with large beams of clear energy, and can even swallow insubstantial things like gas clouds or fire.

"I don't know if Father has extracted his anger yet, so I may or may not have a sibling with the name of Wrath. If I do, though, his or her abilities probably have something to do with the eye. Father gives us our abilities based on the sins we embody, and anger is known for clouding one's perception.

"My eldest brother is Pride, the Arrogant, but the humanoid portion of his body looks much younger than me. It's a boy with short black hair. This boy doesn't have a hard skin, but it's very durable. It, however, is merely one of the two containers that sustains his actual body, which is composed of an amorphous shadow." Ed's eyes went wide. How could even the Philosopher's Stone transmute a _shadow_? "I know what you're thinking. Father was born from the Truth, remember. Homunculi follow a somewhat different set of laws than the laws that govern the material plane. Pride's shadow body is something similar to the black arms that exist within the Doorway of Truth, but he can't create them outside his humanoid container unless one of his containers is connected to a real shadow. His humanoid container can create shadows inside and outside himself, and his greater container, that consists of Central proper and the tunnels and caverns making up and attached to the nationwide transmutation circle," Edward felt just faint shock at this revelation, "Can create shadows inside itself. And yes, the ability of his greater container to exist and his ability to create shadows in his greater container are things respectively related to, and similar to, how the black arms of the Truth function. Pride's Ultimate Shadow is the deadliest ability I'm aware my siblings possess. The shadow can morph into any shape, enlarge to a very great size, cut through or eat almost any substance," Edward paled. Capturing Pride without getting anyone killed was going to be extremely challenging, "Can form an unlimited number of eyes for Pride to see with, when he spreads out from his humanoid container he can manifest from the edge of shadows that end many yards away from him, and when he spreads out from his greater container Pride can move faster than a running horse. His true form is a small humanoid fetus and is carried in the brain of his humanoid container, and it's helpless outside of its containers – although it carries a regular Philosopher's Stone, unlike Envy's embryo – but you'll have your work cut out for you getting at his true form. Be _very_ wary of Pride."

"We will be," Teacher assured him.

"And your father?" Edward prompted. "Does his core body have any inhuman abilities, or is he just a highly knowledgeable and brilliant alchemist with a true Philosopher's Stone?"

"The latter," Greed replied, and Ed sighed. "But there's a major problem. His core body and greater body _are_ the Philosopher's Stone."

Again, Edward just experienced faint shock. He must have reached the point nothing involving the Homunculi and the Fϋhrer could truly astonish, surprise, or shock him now.

"How did he accomplish that?" Edward asked. "Or was that the body he was born with?"

"Have you heard of the lost civilization of Xerxes?" Greed questioned back.

"Yes," Ed replied, confused. "Multiple sources refer to it as a city, others as a Kingdom, but all the sources agree it was destroyed in a single night. What does Xerxes have to d–"

Then every single drop of blood drained from his face, and reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled end over end violently. He'd been wrong. There _was_ still at least one thing related to the Homunculi and the Fϋhrer that could surprise him, and it was something he'd never want to believe could be possible no matter how many layers he discovered there were to peel off the onion.

Dimly, far off, he was aware Teacher, her face understanding, had gripped him around his violently shaking shoulders tightly and securely and her other arm was tightly and securely around Alphonse's beyond extremely violently shaking shoulders, but Ed was just aware of this on the edges of his perception. Even after hearing about the nationwide transmutation circle and the underground network and Ishval, even after he'd murdered Nina and gotten Winry and Granny taken prisoner and heard about the complete repository of knowledge in the Truth and the planet's nervous system and everything you could gain from it, this was still too much. He couldn't think, and his mind retreated from reality as it had in the alley where the Freezer had upended his life.

Hearing people wanted to transmute the populace of an entire country into a Philosopher's Stone was one thing.

Discovering it had actually _happened_ was a different matter completely.

"You got it," Greed confirmed from that distant place, distaste in his voice. "Father wanted to be free of his flask, and the only way he could survive outside of it was to transmute his body into a living Philosopher's Stone. A regular one couldn't have sustained his original form. The King of Xerxes wanted to be immortal, so Father told him how he could transmute himself an immortal body," immortality _was_ possible? At the present Edward didn't register any shock at all, "But it was all a set up. Father wanted the King of Xerxes to dig a human transmutation circle around Xerxes and shed blood to power it so Father could be reconstructed in an immortal body of his own. When the circle was complete, he lied to the King about where the center was, and tricked the person carrying him into holding Father at the true center. The King activated the circle, Father sacrificed the human blood he'd been transmuted from to pay the toll to open the Portal of Truth, and Xerxes' people were transmuted into souls for an enormous Philosopher's Stone that would serve as his new body.

"Now free, he went on to found Amestris so he could escape the flask of the One and the All as well, and the rest was history."

Al. Al needed him.

Reality returned in a stable form, but Teacher didn't let him go. He tried to pull out of her arm to reach Al, but her hold tightened further and she still didn't release him.

"No, Ed," she rebuked him. "Al can't feel it. You don't have to be strong all the time. Let me take care of you."

Teacher was correct about Al, and with that knowledge, all the strength left him and he sagged in her arm.

"Does your Father's body have limits?" Teacher questioned.

"I don't know," Greed replied. "It's almost always shielded by a flask of human flesh; he still can't live without a flask. I've never seen his true body save occasionally when he opens up small parts of the flask of skin to separate a piece of his Philosopher's Stone off the original Stone into a regular Stone. I can tell you I do know his flask is much more durable than regular human flesh, but I don't know how durable it is, or whether it is indestructible."

"What does this human flask look like?" Teacher asked.

"It has short blonde hair and a short blonde beard," Greed responded.

Alphonse gasped, and strength returned to Ed. He attempted to straighten, but Teacher held him even tighter.

"The hypotheses and theories that discuss Homunculi say Homunculi are unable to have children," Teacher spoke. "Are they accurate?"

"Yes," Greed responded, sounding confused, and most of the strength that had returned to Ed left and he sagged once more. "Why?"

"That's none of your concern," Teacher spoke back. "What did you mean by 'your body has its limits?'"

Greed frowned, but then shrugged. "Regenerating from bad enough injuries costs my Philosopher's Stone a lot of energy. If any of my siblings or I are wounded too drastically too many times, our Philosopher's Stones will run out of energy and break, and that will kill us.

"If you have a change of heart and try to kill any of my siblings, keep in mind Envy's secondary Stone is larger than the rest of ours, although not that much larger. You'll have to hurt him severely or fatally more times than the rest of my brethren I know of, or I, to reduce him to his embryonic form."

"I'll keep that in mind," Teacher responded, and Ed couldn't tell from her tone whether she was keeping her options open about killing the Homunculi or not. "What function do your Uroborus tattoos have? Or does it just symbolize your ability to die and be reborn from death?"

"It just symbolizes our ability to die and recover from it," Greed replied.

"Did your father create the underground network from his enormous Philosopher's Stone himself," Teacher questioned, "And if so, is he the only alchemist who can transmute with it and break our connection to tectonic energy?"

"You're correct on all four counts," Greed responded. "But it's not a network. It's a single Stone that stretches over the majority of hundreds of square miles."

Edward experienced true shock, although just a little more than faint shock, at hearing that. But it didn't worry him. Even if he and Al couldn't retrieve a single individual Stone underground if they became sure they could regain their bodies with the Stone, they could still dig down to the single Stone and touch it.

"The imperfect Stones Doctor Marcoh and his research team are transmuting," Teacher spoke, and Greed's eyes widened.

"So you don't know anything about them," Teacher said.

"I'm afraid not," Greed rejoined. "No one was transmuting imperfect Stones when I was an obedient son."

"All right," Teacher spoke. "Where is the Homunculi's base of operations located, and how can we get to your father inside it?"

"It sprawls under Central," Greed replied, and Teacher's eyebrows rose. "I'm sure the arrangement of the buildings have changed in the decades since I split from my family, and the complex has probably expanded, too, but I'll draw you a map of what it looked like when I was working there and where the entrances were. Be warned; a number of the routes to Father's castle – which is just a single chamber at the center of the complex – used to be guarded by a large amount of carnivorous Chimeras trained to attack anyone they haven't been taught is permitted inside and who isn't with someone permitted inside. I extremely highly doubt that's changed."

"Very well," Teacher nodded. "Draw us your map, and we'll fulfill our end of the deal."

Greed smiled eagerly. "About time." He walked out a door in the side of the room and turned to the right down the hallway beyond it, vanishing from sight.

Ed didn't move or speak. He was too hurt and scared, and too exhausted.

Alphonse, however, did. His shaking mostly subsided over a period of time as Ed's did, and then he turned his head to Dolcetto. "What's it like?" he asked. "Having a body, but one that isn't fully human?"

Dolcetto shrugged. "I've been through worse," he responded. "I'd prefer to have a completely human body, but being half dog has its perks. I have a sense of smell better than a human's, and I'm more agile. I also enjoy a dog's loyal ways of thinking; it gives me additional incentive to look out for Greed and my friends. Furthermore, even though my body has changed, I can still be me and live as myself. There are worse things than living like this."

"I see." Al sounded surprised to hear that. "What about Greed? Does he wish he were human like Brother, does he think he's superior because he's a Homunculus, or something else?"

Dolcetto looked dismayed. "What do you mean 'like Brother?' You're a suit of armor, but what body you have doesn't have any bearing on whether or not you're a human. So long as you have a human personality, you're a human being."

Al started violently, and when he replied, he sounded as if an immeasurable weight had been lifted from him. "I… never thought of it that way before."

Ed smiled weakly, but truthfully. He'd believed that since Al had become armor, but he'd never thought he could convince Alphonse of that. It was good to know he'd been wrong.

Dolcetto smiled. "No time like the present to begin, eh? But remember what I spoke about before. I wasn't just trying to trick you into walking into our arms outside. You really are old enough you should be thinking for yourself. Don't believe my perspective is correct because I'm an adult and you're a teenager."

"I'm not," Al assured him. "I believe you because you told me you can live as a human with a body that isn't fully human, and because it makes sense."

"I see," Dolcetto responded. "To answer your question, Greed believes he's superior to humans because of his unique abilities, but I don't see anything wrong with that. He doesn't see us as specimens like the human researchers who transmuted us did; he sees us as valuable possessions to be kept from harm. So I don't care if he thinks he's better than humans because he can do things humans can't. That's no different than how humans take pride in being human and think they're better than other animals because we can do things other animals can't."

"Doesn't it bother you?" Alphonse questioned. "That he sees you as possessions?"

"Not at all," Dolcetto replied. "It gives him incentive to take care of us, and that's what important to me. To all the other Chimera here too. It's degrading, yes, but I'd rather be degraded and supported than have my ego fed and be treated as a lab rat. If Greed acted like a slavemaster, hurt us, tried to force us to serve him, or tried to force us to live in a gilded cage, it would bother me, but because he watches over us and gives us the choice of whether or not to obey him, I could care less whether he thinks of us as people with freedoms or property he owns. I'll wag my tail for him any day."

Al forced a chuckle. "Brother could learn from you."

Ed didn't feel a thing.

"Do you know why Greed abandoned his father?" Alphonse questioned.

"We knew very little about his past before he met us until today," Dolcetto spoke back. "But I assume it was because he couldn't do anything to get what he wants serving another. Greed lives for himself."

Now Ed's stomach twisted. That meant Greed, and these Chimeras, were criminals in the truest sense; not rebels with a cause like McDougal and Scar, but opportunistic predators. He and Alphonse and Teacher were dirtying their hands by letting this group help them. Ed was already as bad as the one the Homunculi called Father, his children, the Fϋhrer, and High Command, but could he justify dirtying his hands further, even with what the stakes were?

Yes. That was emotion talking again, and Ed couldn't let his emotions rule him.

He still loathed the concept of accepting assistance from Greed's group even more than he loathed the concept of allying with Scar, however. And that was without getting into how Greed and his servants had attempted to take Al captive.

"I can believe that," Al said back.

Al didn't talk further, and they waited. After an unknown amount of time passed, Teacher removed her arm from Al's shoulders and coughed blood into it, then wiped it off on her shirt and put her arm back around Al.

So Teacher was still sick.

Or was it a sickness? Teacher had seen the Truth, and was intact on the outside. Did she cough up blood because the inside of her body was a wreck?

More time passed, and then Greed returned, carrying a large, rolled up sheaf of thick paper under his arm. "Your map is done." He looked at Al. "Now, then. I wanted to meet with you because I want you to tell me how to transmute a soul into a suit of armor. As I discussed, this body has its limits. I'm sure yours does, too, but yours is a lot closer to Father's immortal body than mine is. I want immortality for myself, so I want to know how to transfer my soul into armor."

Ed at last opened his mouth.

"Are you certain you want to do that?" he questioned. "An armor body can survive any harm any amount of times so long as the blood seal binding the soul to it isn't damaged, but all it takes to kill you when you're in an armor body is for that blood seal to be scratched. Additionally, you'll lose your ability to feel, taste, and smell, as well as sleep if Homunculi need sleep. I recommend you reconsider."

"Homunculi require sleep," Greed replied, "Though not as often as humans. But I'm not going to reconsider. I love food, but giving up my ability to taste delicacies is a small price to pay to increase my chances of living forever. In addition, the more time I have to live, the more time I'll have to discover a way to become immortal _with_ all my senses and the capacity to sleep. I'm still certain."

Edward didn't care for the concept of telling someone how to cast away his or her body even when the person he'd be telling wasn't human and could successfully be altered by human transmutation, but if Greed was certain he wanted to discard his body, the danger Greed might be if he had the information wasn't too much of a reason not to tell him how. Edward or Al performing the human transmutation wasn't part of the deal, and Greed had very likely proven he wasn't lying about how he was an honest person. Greed wouldn't be able to trick another alchemist into transmuting him. As well, Sig would probably be willing to refrain from accompanying Teacher when she left Dublith to keep an eye on Greed and ensure the Homunculus didn't attempt to coerce another alchemist by force. Edward could probably afford to keep their end of the bargain despite the risks.

He loathed the concept of doing it even more than he loathed letting Greed and his Chimeras assist them. Greed had wanted to hold Al prisoner, Greed was an opportunistic criminal, and keeping Edward's end of the deal wasn't something as big as the fate of Amestris.

But Greed might have been an incredible help to them by revealing everything he'd told them about the Homunculi. Edward couldn't break their agreement knowing that.

"Suit yourself, then," Ed responded. "I should be the one to give you the information. I can't tell you anything he doesn't know himself, but I'm the one who transmuted Al."

Greed crossed his arms and assumed a listening posture.

"The blood seal takes the form of a small human transmutation circle," Edward spoke. "The iron in the blood is what binds the soul to the metal of the armor. I attached Al to the suit of armor after he'd been erased from reality by the Portal of Truth, but an equation making up the circle can theoretically work on souls inside existing human bodies, artificial or natural. That means it should work on you. Your father was able to reconstruct himself as a Stone, so I know human transmutation can work on Homunculi. However, he had to pay a price to reconstruct his Homunculus body, and even just transmuting a soul comes with a price, so, as he had to pay the price of his human blood and I had to pay the price of my right arm to save Al, you or whoever transmutes you, or both, will have to pay a price to move your soul. So I'm sorry, but Al and I aren't going to transmute you."

Greed muttered a malediction, but he said, "Fine. You never agreed to that."

"But we'll," Ed looked at Teacher in surprise. She wasn't going to accompany them now? "be keeping an eye on you to ensure you don't involve another alchemist, so don't get any ideas."

Greed snorted and met Teacher's eyes. "Do your worst. Yes, my body has limits, but I can cover all of it with my Ultimate Shield." Edward paled. "Good luck restraining me or killing me when you can't hurt me at _all_."

"Don't underestimate me," Teacher responded unworriedly, not looking away. "I'm a housewife."

"Whatever," Greed responded.

Then his expression softened slightly, and actually became something that might have been sympathetic. He looked at Ed and Al. "Thanks, you two. And I'm sorry for how unpleasant what I had to tell you was. For the time you owed me something, you two were bound to me, so that made you my possessions for that period of time as much as the Chimeras are. I don't like it when my possessions are damaged.

"I hope you're successful in stopping Father. My brethren think of humans as fools and livestock, but Father doesn't care about you one way or the other. He thinks he's so far above you because he's an immortal Philosopher Stone you're insects compared to him, nothing more than resources, and that attitude irritates me. Homunculi _are_ the higher life forms. But you humans adopt lesser animals as pets. I think of humans as pets, potential or current, and I don't like Father's view of you. He needs a good reality check, and preventing him from obtaining God is one of the best I can think of someone could give him."

"Now be on your way. I have plans to make." He gave Teacher a warning look and extended the rolled up sheaf of paper to her.

Teacher looked at Ed. "Can you stand?"

Ed tested his right leg, but it didn't feel like it was going to give, so he nodded.

Teacher released them and took the sheaf of paper, then gave Greed a warning look of her own. Then she turned and walked over to the door they'd entered through, opening it and passing into the hall.

Edward followed her, into a reality that now wasn't just hideous and inexpressibly terrifying, but so alien he didn't know how it could remotely resemble the one he'd once thought he'd lived in.

.

"Everyone wants to become stronger, more powerful."-Kid

CHRONO CROSS


	7. The Recluse

.

 **CHAPTER 7:**

 **THE RECLUSE**

.

"If you're thinking of searching my drawers for something incriminating when I'm off at a meeting you can't attend," Fϋhrer Bradley said without warning, "You'll be wasting your time."

Maes looked over at the Fϋhrer from where he was sitting in a foldout chair organizing files at one corner of Bradley's desk. He kept his tone regular. "Assuming I had such an intention, why would that be the case?"

The Fϋhrer laughed. "Because we're not inexperienced upstarts like you traitors are. My colleagues have been doing this for centuries, and I've been trained for this since childhood. We aren't that sloppy."

Maes pushed aside his feelings of how strange this conversation was. Usually a known traitor wouldn't be discussing his or her treason with the leader of the government he or she had sought to depose. "Yet you didn't think to look in plain sight for Doctor Marcoh."

"A common enough mistake," Bradley replied. "It in no way means we don't know what we're doing."

Maes was quiet for several seconds, and then decided to indulge his curiosity. "While we're on this subject, may I ask you a personal question, sir?"

"What would that be?" the Fϋhrer questioned back.

"Like me," Maes spoke, "You have a wife and a child. How can you live with the knowledge they'll lose their bodies and become part of a Philosopher's Stone if your plan succeeds? Or did you marry your wife and adopt Selim to cause the people to see you as a family person and think better of you?"

The Fϋhrer's expression was unreadable for a number of seconds, and then he appeared to make a choice. "No. I was told to adopt Selim by the colleagues of mine associated with the Uroborus tattoo, but I chose my wife because I wanted to marry her. She has a rare spirit, and that interested me."

Maes' eyes widened, and even though the Fϋhrer was a threat to Gracia and Elicia, Maes experienced a surge of sympathy. "Then how can you be willing to sacrifice her for a Stone? Or are you acting out of loyalty to the people with the Uroborus tattoo? Doctor Marcoh said they might outrank you. Is it true?"

Bradley was silent, clearly thinking about whether to answer.

Then he spoke, "Yes. The true ruler of this nation sits behind my throne, not on it. I'm a puppet. I have been since my earliest youth. I was raised and given everything from my name to an education by alchemic researchers working for an older High Command administration and the Uroborus conclave, as one of many 'prospective Fϋhrers' who would lead this country to glory. I didn't even have a name until I became the first candidate to pass their final test; I was too young to remember the name my parents gave me or if they had given me one when the researchers took me in… or I was perhaps sold to them by my parents, for all I know. I've played the roles I've been assigned for virtually all my life."

Maes' eyes were wide behind his glasses. Of all the things he could have believed when he'd met Armstrong upon his return to Central earlier this morning and Armstrong had told him about the people with the Uroborus tattoo, that Fϋhrer Bradley was a victim as well could never have been among them.

It was possible Bradley was lying, but Maes highly doubted it. The Fϋhrer had no reason to at this point.

"Then why sacrifice the person you chose by your own will to share your life with you?" Maes questioned. "Why isn't she more important to you? I know your loyalty to your superiors isn't blind; you're too skilled at leading to be a blind follower, and you shot down five of the most important figures in the Ishvalan religion for believing in their God. You think for yourself. Why are you willingly acting out the role your superiors gave you?"

"Because," Bradley replied, "You could call the leader of the Uroborus conclave my true father." Maes experienced a surge of revulsion. Bradley hadn't even been given a name until he proved himself worthy of being Fϋhrer and he was calling the leader of the conclave his _father?_ It went against everything Maes knew a family to be. "I don't obey blindly, but I owe him my life, literally in more ways than I can tell you. To put the wife I chose on my own volition before him would be to selfishly betray my duty as a son. I could never do that."

So that was why. Bradley was willing to sacrifice his true family because he had a warped idea of what a family was. Maes didn't know if Bradley was thinking this way because this was what the researchers or the Uroborus conclave had taught him to think like this, or whether Bradley had arrived at this perspective of a family by thinking for himself because no real family had raised him, but regardless of the reason, it disgusted Maes.

"That's absurd!" Maes cried, anger flooding his veins. "A father wants his child to gain the happiness he or she seeks above anything else! If the leader of the conclave truly thinks of you as a son, he wants you to value Cordelia over whatever he wants his Stone for! If he doesn't, he's no father of yours at all, and you owe him nothing! One way or another, you deserve happiness with Cordelia! With Selim as well!"

"Whether he wants me to be happy is irrelevant," the Fϋhrer responded. "I'm alive because of him. That's the important thing. It doesn't matter whether he cares about me; whether he does or doesn't I still owe him my loyalty because he gave me the gift of life. How would you feel if the daughter you've created tried to ruin your life's dream?"

"If I neglected Elicia, I _hope_ she'd ruin my dreams!" Maes retorted. "I'd deserve it, and a lot worse!"

The Fϋhrer looked amused. "Don't waste your breath, Lieutenant Colonel. I'll never betray my father. I don't need anything from him, and I never will, so I have no justification betraying him. I'm satisfied with the limited time I have with my wife."

Maes could just look at Bradley in horror. This was an _abomination_.

He took a deep breath. He didn't want the Fϋhrer anywhere near his daughter, but he had to do this. Bradley was a victim of filial neglect, by the researchers and Uroborus cabal. He needed to learn what a family was.

Additionally, if things had been different, if he and Gracia had lived approximately sixty years ago and died soon after Elicia had been born, it could have been Elicia now sitting where Bradley sat, and thinking the same ways. He couldn't turn his back on a sad male who had lived a broken life when Elicia just as easily could have walked his path. That would mean there were limits to the love he was willing to give his daughter.

"If that's how you feel, sir," Maes said, "Elicia's birthday is in eleven days. I invite you to attend. I want you to see how a real family functions."

Even with the situation he was in, even though he was talking to the Fϋhrer, even though Maes was saying this for the Fϋhrer's sake and not to show others how amazing his daughter was, it was still as easy as it usually was for Maes to smile happily as he reached into his uniform pants pocket and took out his newest favorite photo of Elicia – one with her sitting on the living room couch and smiling with her arms wrapped around the neck of a stuffed giraffe taller than her that was standing in her lap. He walked up to the Fϋhrer's desk and bent forward, thrusting it in Bradley's face.

"Who could deny the desire of an adorable face like that to break out in unrestrained joy!?" Maes cried. "Come on! You know you want to see that smile for real!"

Bradley's visage didn't change, and he snorted. "I decline," he responded, still sounding amused. "I'm too busy to waste my time with frivolous activities. Even more so because we were forced to burn down the First Branch of the National Central Library."

Maes made his face expressionless as he lowered the photograph and walked back. He'd assumed the Fϋhrer had been behind it as soon as Maes had been reassigned two days ago, and Bradley had burned it down to hide evidence of his goal. Since then, when he wasn't at his new job, he'd been at the court martial office combing their files for the names of anyone the office knew worked there, in case the government sought to silence them as they'd silenced Doctor Marcoh's research team and the other three. Thus far, he'd just found one name, better known than the other people who had worked there because she had been more knowledgeable about its texts than the other employees: Sheska. Maes had called in a favor with Focker to have her removed from Central to somewhere else, and couldn't afford to show anything that might give Bradley reason to believe he was engaged in anything related to the library.

"That's a shame, sir," Maes replied. "More than you know."

Maes wasn't going to give up, though. Maybe all his efforts would be futile, and in the end he'd be forced to arrest, or even kill, Bradley with his own two hands, but he owed it to Elicia and to the Fϋhrer to _attempt_ to teach Bradley what a family was.

He'd turned his back on the happiness of too many of his enemies' families in Ishval, and destroyed their joy, to do it to an enemy again.

.

Edward lay on his bed in the room Teacher had given him and Al, the light on inside the room and the Moon casting its rays through the window, but he wasn't genuinely aware of any of that. Al sat on the bed to his right, but he hadn't said anything since before Ed had lain down.

Ed didn't want to, but he was confronting and accepting the one the Homunculi called Father had wiped an entire country off the face of the planet.

He was facing and accepting immortality was possible, God had been proven to exist, the alchemy he had faith in was far more abominable than he'd thought, and God could be acquired and His knowledge used to break the laws that governed existence, too.

The biggest problem with accepting the former and latter things were what they meant. But the biggest problem with accepting God had been proven to be real wasn't that it meant something he'd never believed was true, but that it felt as if he _hadn't_ believed it wasn't true for a long time. And as thoroughly as he was recalling his life, searching for a time something he'd forgotten had proven God was real, he couldn't find anything.

What was going on?

If there was nothing, he shouldn't be feeling this way. He knew full well the laws of science weren't just theories humanity had thought they'd discovered but they'd have to discard if something came along and showed they were wrong, and these laws existed in an absolute form and were enforced by the flow of the One and the All itself. When he'd opened the Portal, he'd discovered inescapable evidence the laws of science governed reality, not an unprovable spiritual being. If he'd never encountered any proof God was real, there wasn't the slightest reason he should have believed God existed before now.

His eyes widened.

 _That_ was it.

He'd known beyond the most microscopic doubt the Truth was the answer to everything, so he'd thought of it as God even before Greed had unveiled the knowledge of all existence was stored within the Truth. Greed had done nothing more than provide Edward further evidence the Truth was God, and define what Ed had been feeling all these years.

Ed didn't know what he felt about that. He'd believed he'd spent most of his life convinced there was no such thing as God, yet he'd known the scientifically provable truth he'd trusted in had been God for years. Edward didn't know if it was humbling, disturbing, both, or something else entirely.

Nor did he know how it made reality different.

Or _did_ it make reality different? He'd known the Truth was the solution to all dilemmas. Did discovering he'd known the Truth to be the God he'd thought he hadn't believed in mean that facet of reality was something he'd been wrong about, or did it just put another name to that facet of reality?

Edward didn't know that, as well, but the possibility that was what was going on meant thinking about what Greed had revealed any longer was pointless. They had plans to make, and Teacher doubtlessly wanted to know why they'd committed alchemy's greatest sin. Further, Ed wanted to know why Teacher had.

He pushed himself into a sitting position. He was no less exhausted than he'd been when they'd left Greed's bar, but he was growing used to being exhausted.

"Brother?" Al sounded surprised.

"We're wasting our time here, Al," Edward replied. "We've faced and accepted the Truth, and that should be enough. We didn't let what the Freezer told us prevent us from talking about what needed to be talked about, so we shouldn't be letting what Greed told us do that. And we've known the Truth is God since we opened the Portal; we just didn't realize it."

"We have?" his brother sounded more surprised, and Ed looked at him. "I haven't. I believe in alchemy, but until today I never thought of the Truth as the ultimate answer. I just thought it proved the laws of science are genuine, it can provide helpful information, and it knows everything about alchemy in and of itself. I never believed it was the solution to all problems."

Ed's eyes went wide.

"Why not?" he questioned. "The laws of alchemy govern the flow of life itself. We're not Gods, but how could the Truth itself not have all the answers?"

"Because alchemy doesn't solve every problem people face within the laws that restrict us," Al spoke back. "Even when I believed we were Gods in a sense, I knew that. It doesn't provide an alternative to violence, it can't restore hearing to the deaf or sight to the blind, there's no surety the things it transmutes won't break down at a critical time and cause injury or death, it doesn't teach humans to stop dressing up the harm they do their fellows in the pretty word of 'justice.' It gives us a moral compass, and power, and teaches us hard work is required to succeed and will always be rewarded, but it doesn't tell us how to make everyone happy. I don't believe even the ultimate Truth in the planet's nervous system can tell us that."

"That's silly," Edward disagreed. "It tells us what the immutable laws of the world are. Something that clearly defines how the world works has to be able to answer any question. Alchemy hasn't solved everything yet because the humans who practice it are the ones who aren't Gods and have their flaws, not because _it_ isn't the ladder to God. It's possible to solve everything with alchemy; we just need to learn to practice it better, so it gives us greater strength. That won't make us anything more than flawed humans, and it won't make us Gods, but it will enable us to climb over every obstacle. It's our lack of skill that has prevented us from applying the answers within the Truth correctly; not a failing in the Truth itself."

"Maybe you're right," Al responded. "But I doubt it."

"Then how are you taking Greed's revelation about God?" Edward asked.

"I'm looking at it," Al responded, "And accepting it. Don't worry about that."

There was absolutely no way Ed _couldn't_ worry, but since Alphonse was facing and accepting the truth, this argument was pointless.

"Then let's find Teacher," Edward replied.

.

The four of them sat around the kitchen table again, Alphonse sitting to Ed's left this time.

"I have a plan," Teacher spoke.

Ed sat up straighter, listening.

"I've become familiar with a lot of alchemists during our travels around Amestris," Teacher continued, "A number of whom live in towns that are famous tourist attractions. Therefore, over the next weeks, Sig is going to find a place to hide here while he's watching Greed, and I'm going to pay the ones in towns with famous tourist attractions a visit, and convince those alchemists to use their influence in the community to get the tourist attractions to mail advertisements to Mustang in Central. It shouldn't be too difficult for a famous tourist attraction to learn his new address. Over these several weeks the tourist attractions will each send one or two advertisements to Mustang with the information Greed gave us hidden in the advertisements as a bookmark sticking out of the advertisement. The first bookmark will have a picture of Al's blood seal at the top, so Mustang will know to look at that bookmark and any others. The speed at which these advertisements arrive, and that they're coming from multiple different locations, should give no one watching Mustang reason to suspect anything. I'll also convince the alchemists I know to spread the word about the Rockbells and the Armstrongs during this time, and investigate the prisons throughout Amestris. By doing this, there's a tiny chance we'll have located the Armstrongs and the Rockbells and freed them before Mustang and Hawkeye know everything we've discovered."

Edward suppressed the surge of wild, desperate hope. As Teacher had said, it was a small chance.

"Once Mustang and Hawkeye have filled in the gaps of their knowledge of the plans of the one called Father and have their map of his base of operations," Teacher went on, "I'll travel to Central to meet up with them. With you two as well; I want you two in Central ready to move tomorrow. I'll have an advertisement mailed to you when I'm almost done contacting Mustang, so feel free to leave Central before then if you wish to, but I want you to find a place to stay in Central and strike from tomorrow. If Greed is no longer an issue, Sig will be with me, then. Together, the six of us will infiltrate the Homunculi's underground complex and transmute copies of whatever evidence we need to expose them to the military in general. Once we have the evidence, we'll spread word of the Homunculi's and the Fϋhrer's crimes to as much of the Amestrian military as we can without alerting the Fϋhrer and his colleagues we have. With a sizeable amount of the military assisting us, we should be able to find the Rockbells and the Armstrongs."

Alphonse gasped, and Edward couldn't breathe. Thank hydrogen. They had a plan for saving Winry and Granny.

"If we've already freed our enemies' hostages," Teacher proceeded, "We'll spread word to the military in general. Regardless of when we free them, we'll have the means to alert the military. We'll do so, plan out the details of how to take the Homunculi prisoner without anyone on either side dying in the process, launch the coup, and save Amestris."

So they had a complete general plan. Ed didn't know if they could pull it off, but he pushed away his doubts. What mattered was they had the plan. "Does anyone have anything to add?" Teacher questioned.

Ed's eyes widened that Teacher wanted input from him and Al, but after Mustang had asked him for ideas, he shouldn't have been.

"If McDougal doesn't let Al and I know how to contact him when he gets his first alkahestry text to us," Ed supplied, "The alchemists you know ought to try to locate the Freezer within this time frame. He'll fight with us." He scowled. "The same might be true for Scar, if we can get through to him, so they should look for him as well."

Teacher nodded. "Good points."

"It would also probably be a good idea to get as much of a head start on how we're going to capture the one called Father as possible," Alphonse advised. "You heard what the Freezer and Cornello could do with their Philosopher's Stones. They didn't need circles to transmute. All they needed to do was touch what they were transmuting. The one called Father has a Philosopher's Stone as his body, so he'll be able to transmute anything touching him without moving indefinitely without throwing up his Stone. He also has a large, amorphous greater body. He's going to be incredibly hard to take prisoner, and I'm not sure it will be any more possible than killing him is."

"We've taken all that into account," Sig spoke. "We're going to be giving it a lot of thought, fear not. If worst comes to worst, once we've neutralized everyone else serving him, we can lay siege to his complex and have rotating shifts of State Alchemists keep him imprisoned there by continually transmuting walls around him. Even if his chamber is the center of the nationwide transmutation circle, with the circle incomplete or broken, we'll have nothing to fear from him."

"Don't forget about the nationwide Stone," Edward reminded them. "He'll cut off the State Alchemists from tectonic energy and walk through any firepower ordinary soldiers launch at him. That's not going to work unless a lot of State Alchemists have learned alkahestry by that time."

"Then we'll have to be absolutely certain to find the Freezer if he doesn't send you alkahestry texts soon," Teacher replied.

"If it comes to that," Al pointed out worriedly, "Though, we'll have to delay the revolution for the State Alchemists to learn alkahestry. Depending on how long that takes, we could end up cutting things awfully close to the day of the solar eclipse."

"I know," Teacher responded, "But we may have to take that chance. We can't afford to take someone who can break the Equivalent Exchange with his body itself lightly."

Edward clenched his teeth.

"We should try to delay the Homunculi from carving their remaining 'crests of blood' until after the solar eclipse," Sig interjected. "But that means we'll need to wait until they attempt to carve them, so we know what their plans are, or discover those plans another way. We have no way to do the latter, so we'll have to do the former.

"That leads us to the issue of Major General Armstrong at Fort Briggs. We don't know if Major Armstrong was able to warn her, so we should try to get in touch with her ourselves, and, if Major Armstrong wasn't able to alert her of the Fϋhrer's goals, request she help us set up and execute the coup in addition to preventing a massacre at her fort. She's stationed far enough away from Central she may be able to act without endangering her captive family."

"I agree," Teacher said back. "I'll contact her myself once we have our evidence. As all three of you know, I'm familiar with Briggs Mountain and the Briggs Mountain Range."

Ed had forgotten about that, but he could buy Teacher's tale of having survived for a whole month on Briggs Mountain in winter now after what he'd been forced to buy recently, and even the part about her having killed a Briggs Mountain grizzly bear.

"Do you think breaking the nationwide transmutation circle is an option?" Alphonse questioned. "I don't. We're all aware, if the circle is part of Pride's greater container, he's unquestionably patrolling it, so I think, even if we can avoid him or defeat his shadow body and wreck it, he'll report any damage to the one he calls Father so it can be fixed. But do you think I'm wrong?"

"Not in the slightest," Teacher responded. "Those are my thoughts.

"Can anyone think of anything else?"

There was one thing, the obvious question, but apparently Teacher and Sig didn't want to air it any more than he or Al did. What were they going to do if there wasn't any evidence of the Homunculi's and the government's crimes in the underground complex?

But there was no answer to that, so there was no point discussing it.

No one replied, so after several seconds Teacher crossed her arms and sat back, and Edward winced, knowing what was coming.

"It was our mother," he said before Teacher could ask, now feeling every bit of his exhaustion. "We wanted to see her smile again. That's actually why we wanted to learn alchemy from you in the first place; so we could become skilled enough to succeed in human transmutation.

"But we were no more successful than you were. I lost my left leg, Al lost all of his body, mind, and soul, and we brought Mom back in an inhuman shape that was too deformed to live and she died again shortly after the resurrection. I saved Al's soul, but that cost me my right arm, and that was all I could salvage from that disaster."

Ed hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Teacher. We didn't listen to you when you taught us to accept death is a part of the circulation of nature. We never had any intention of learning that lesson, and we kept that a secret. We tricked you, and disobeyed you, and made a mockery of your good will and your teachings."

"It's all right," Teacher spoke. Edward wasn't surprised to hear that after the looks Teacher had given them at Greed's bar, but it still hurt horribly. Nevertheless, he looked up. "I knew I needed to accept death is part of the flow of the One and All when I performed human transmutation, but I still didn't."

"Um…" Al shifted uncomfortably. "I know it's not my place to ask this question, but…"

"It is your place," Teacher said. "As I spoke before, my principles are still my principles. You're no longer worthy of my teachings, so you're both expelled." Even terrified for Winry, that hurt on a level not much else could. "I'm no longer your Teacher, so we can talk as equals now. Ask me if you wish to."

"It's still not my place," Alphonse spoke back, anguish in his voice.

"Then I'll tell you of my own volition," Teacher – Ed couldn't think of her any other way – responded. "Sig and I had a difficult time conceiving a child, and when I did at last conceive, the baby I brought into this world was unable to take a single living breath. Now, I no longer have the ability to conceive at all."

Ed couldn't look at Teacher any more. The agony in her eyes was too familiar. He lowered his head, and saw Al turn his face away.

Numerous seconds passed uncomfortably.

Edward didn't know how much time had passed when Al questioned awkwardly, "How did you know we'd sinned?"

"The sounds Ed's limbs make when he moves are different," Teacher replied. "And when you move, the steel of your armor echoes as your voice does."

Quiet reigned again.

This time, Teacher was the one who broke it. "You're searching for a way to regain the bodies you lost, aren't you?" she asked. "That's the real reason you studied with Tucker, isn't it? To find a way to commit your sin again?"

To Edward's surprise, Al spoke back first. "Yes," Al responded. He must have been attempting to walk by himself. "I know how childish it is, but we are. I'm so sorry. And I'm so sorry we tried human transmutation in the first place. And I'm so sorry we're still so immature. We let you down. We let Sig down. We let Granny down. We let Nina down. We let Winry down. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay to be childish," Teacher said, "When you're willing to be responsible, and to look reality in the eyes and accept it, and to learn from your mistakes. And you are willing to learn. Whether it was okay for you to make the mistakes that sentenced Nina, Winry, and Pinako or not, you _did_ learn from what you did to Nina, though you almost certainly think you haven't learned a thread since you lost your bodies. If you hadn't learned, would you be accepting the truth now?"

Edward's eyes widened, and Al gasped.

That was correct. They _had_ learned. They'd learned they were still unwilling to accept the truth when they'd murdered Nina, and they'd learned how irresponsible it was to take on burdens on their own from Granny. It had been much too late each time, but they'd still learned from their errors. How could Ed not have seen it before?

But they still hadn't grown. They couldn't have, if it had taken them until the second time to learn to accept the truth.

"But if it will cause you to feel better after what Greed told you," Teacher went on, "I'll beat you up now. I'd be indulging your childishness, but there's nothing wrong with allowing you two to be children when you're carrying the burden of what Greed had to say."

"No, thanks," Al replied. "I don't want anything to sugarcoat the truth. That would mean I wasn't facing it. Additionally, I don't want my childishness indulged for any reason. It's repulsive; it shouldn't be given any kindness."

"I don't want the Truth dressed up myself," Edward spoke back. "I want to accept your offer, however. If you knock me out, that'll ensure I sleep tonight. That would be taking the easy way out, though, and that's not Equivalent Exchange. I'll pass, as well, and since I know you will knock me out if I don't fall asleep, don't worry me getting a decent sleep any more than you need to worry about me keeping my dinner down." His stomach had tried to reject his lunch, but Edward had kept it within him.

"I'm pleased to hear that," Teacher smiled.

"Now let's eat. I'd prefer to give you another hug, to offer my support to the suffering you've endured since your human transmutation, but I know that would make you more uncomfortable than help after I held you at Greed's." Ed forced a fake smile. So let's have dinner, and then you two need to turn in for the night right away. I want you off to Central on the earliest train headed in its direction in the morning, to reduce the likelihood the people who followed you here will become more suspicious."

"We'll do that," Ed responded.

"And Teacher?"

"Yes?" Teacher questioned back.

"Thanks for everything," Edward's voice cracked, "Last time and this time."

.

Greed stood within the edge of the circle of trees surrounding the mansion, facing the mansion's front.

It had taken just hours to select the reclusive alchemist who lived in this mansion as the best option for someone he could convince or coerce into transmuting him into a suit of armor. She'd moved into this mansion thirty-eight years ago and rarely been seen in Dublith proper since, when she did emerge from her mansion she avoided any contact with other people as much as she could, she never entertained visitors, no one even knew her name, the occasional adventurous youth or criminal who broke into the mansion was never seen again, and no one would have even known she was an alchemist if she hadn't transmuted the clearing the mansion was in out of the forest and the mansion herself.

She didn't want to associate with the outside world, and she was very skilled. She was an ideal choice as far as Greed was concerned.

Greed turned to Bido. "You stay out here and watch for one or both of the Curtises."

Bido nodded. "Sure thing, boss."

Greed then turned to Roa and Dolcetto. "From what we've heard, the idiots and crooks who tried to penetrate this place all tried a sneaky approach, so we'll go for a direct one. Dolcetto, see if you can sniff out this woman in a room near a window. If you can, break through that window, Roa. If Dolcetto can't, we're going through the front door."

Dolcetto nodded and walked out into the clearing.

The second he put a foot down inside it, he went stiff and leapt back into the forest, and then stood, pale and shaking.

Greed's eyebrows rose. "What is it?"

Dolcetto took a few deep breaths, calming down. "I don't know," he replied. "There's something… wrong… something that feels so warped and twisted it feels like it shouldn't be able to exist in this world… in that mansion. If I had fur and could bark, my fur would be standing on end and I'd be barking like crazy."

Greed's eyes widened, and his guard rose. He didn't know how animals were able to tell, but that sounded just like how regular animals, and Father's untrained Chimeras, had reacted when they were in his presence.

But that was ridiculous. If there was a third person with the body of an enormous Philosopher's Stone, Father would surely have known about it and neutralized her shortly after she'd set foot in Amestris. A wild card like that would have been too dangerous to be allowed to stay free.

Greed dismissed the thought, though. No, those _thoughts_ were the ridiculous thing. Father couldn't know everything that had happened all over the planet. Another country could have been depopulated on another continent without Father hearing anything about it, and the person responsible for it could have traveled here without Father knowing she was a living Philosopher's Stone.

It was possible whoever lived in the mansion was the same type of being as Father. It was by no means a certainty, but it was possible, and that meant attempting to recruit this alchemist was probably a very bad idea.

That didn't mean they should pull back, though. If the woman who lived in this mansion was indeed a third living Philosopher's Stone, there was a decent possibility she was a pure Homunculus like Father, and had been born of the Truth, and that was how she'd known how to transmute herself an immortal body. She might know a way he could attain immortality without giving up his senses or the ability to sleep.

He had to risk it.

"This calls for a change of plans," Greed spoke. "I'm going in alone. If I haven't returned in approximately three hours, get out of Dublith and return to the slum where I found you. Stay there until I come for you."

Roa's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding," he responded. "If you have reason to believe this alchemist is that deadly, there's no way we're letting you confront her by yourself."

"This alchemist may be a Philosopher's Stone in the form of a human like Father," Greed replied. "If it comes to a fight she'll kill you as easily as you'd swat a fruit fly. I'm the only one who has any chance of making it out alive if that's true and she attacks us."

"I don't care," Martel said. "You took us in when we had no future. We owe you for giving our lives meaning again, and for giving us happiness. We'll never be able to repay you for restoring a future to us, so we can't leave you to risk your safety no matter how likely it is we'll die if we remain at your side. Especially not when _you_ might be in mortal danger in there."

"There's a difference between loyalty and throwing away your life," Greed responded. "Loyalty is when you back up your master or mistress when you have a reasonable chance of making a difference in whether he or she lives or dies. When you have almost no chance of making that difference, you're throwing away your life. Stay out he–"

The double polished wooden front doors leading into the mansion at the back of a high semicircular stone porch swung open.

Greed swore and dark blue moved up his hands, but it was too late.

Red currents coursed over the ground into the forest where they were hidden, and the trees around them shifted into a large cage comprised of a mesh of thick wood with large thorns extending from every surface.

Greed swung his hardened left fist into the mesh, but a woman's voice called to them from the doorway, where a single figure stood silhouetted in a wash of light.

"I wouldn't do that. Resist and this cage closes on every single one of your companions."

Greed snarled and pulled his fist back.

"That's better," the woman called, walking down the stairs leading from the porch to the grass and heading in their direction. "Now tell me what you're doing hiding outside my house."

Seconds later, she drew close enough her features could be made out, revealing her to be a woman with short black hair and red eyes too dark for them to have been given their color by the Philosopher's Stone she possessed or was, garbed in a light purple dress with golden sleeves and a high gold collar fastened by a large oval stone that was dark red in color.

Greed knew they might be at an incredible disadvantage, but he was determined not to show it. "Do us the courtesy of giving us your name first, lady!" he shouted back.

"My name is Dante," she responded. "But I'd prefer you address me as what I should have been to you: Grandmother."

Greed blinked. "What the h–"

Then realization dawned. "You knew the human who gave Father his blood!"

Dante smiled, and there was a deep bitterness and pain in it. "Yes, I did. Very well. His name was Van Hohenheim. I didn't meet him until after he abandoned your father," Greed's eyes widened, "But if things had been different I would have been your step-grandmother."

"Who _are_ you, lady?" Greed asked.

Dante frowned, and red crackled out from her feet over the grass and into the wooden mesh. A portion of the mesh morphed into a metal wire that wound around Greed, and electricity coursed over it, sending electric currents into the unshielded parts of Greed's body and through him. Greed clenched his teeth against the agony and glared.

The electricity died, and Dante spoke.

"I told you," her tone was that of a scolding parent, "Address me as 'Grandmother.'"

Greed laughed harshly. "Dream on, lady! I didn't run out on Father over a hundred years ago to answer to a crone I haven't known my entire life! I could care less about whatever stupid crush you once had on this Hohenheim! I don't obey anyone but myself!"

Dante scowled. "It was no crush, child," she said furiously. "We were deeply in love, and devoted to one another. We still would be if I hadn't fouled up!"

"Sure you would be," Greed laughed. For all he knew Dante wasn't lying, but he could care less. She'd gotten on his bad side, and he was going to ensure she regretted that.

Dante clenched her teeth. "Be thankful I value finally getting to meet you as highly as I do," she responded, "Or I'd torture your companions until you obeyed." Greed's eyes went wide. He hadn't believed he'd hear something like that. So Dante had at least a small degree of decency, unlike his father. "But, as much as I hate it, I believed I'd receive a response of this kind from my stepson's extracted avarice. I wasn't going to waste this chance at being acknowledged as your grandmother, but I didn't believe I'd succeed. Call me whatever name suits you. Unlike my stepson, I accept the wishes of my family."

Greed frowned. Could he afford to trust that? Yes, Dante had gotten on his bad side, but he didn't let his emotions blind him like so many humans did. If Dante was telling the truth, maybe he had made the right choice seeking her out. But could he believe her?

It couldn't hurt to test her.

"Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "Then how about you free my possessions?"

"Not unless they're willing to leave right after I do," Dante replied, "And to speak of what they've learned about me to no one. I don't want any other humans," that answered that, "this close to my property."

"We're staying right here!" Bido shouted.

"Then you can rot in there," Dante responded, not turning her head or looking in his direction when she spoke to him.

Greed swore in a quiet voice.

"All right," he sighed. "I'll put that aside for now. Are you willing to extend the grandson who never knew you existed the kindness of telling him how you know so much about him, or are we Homunculi too beneath you for that?"

Dante's lips twisted in what might have been amusement. "Far from it. I hate all other humans except Hohenheim," she didn't just look down on them? She actively _hated_ them? That was unexpected, "But I have nothing but regard for Homunculi.

"I know about you because I've studied Xingese alkahestry, the Xing version of alchemy. My parents were immigrants from Riviere and Xerxes," that answered Greed's questions about whether she possessed a Philosopher's Stone or was one, "But I was born in Xing and secluded myself there for almost two centuries after I obtained this body. I've discovered things about reading energy known as 'chi' that exists within the planet and all life, including the souls in Philosopher's Stones, I doubt anyone familiar with alkahestry, even Hohenheim, has the remotest concept is possible. I've often spied on your father through reading the chi in his underground Stone." Greed's eyebrows rose. "I know much about your immediate family, their wishes, and your betrayal of them. I know something about your family you almost certainly don't; I'm almost certain you're unaware Wrath was born around forty years ago. He was, and has been a dutiful son from then on."

"I'm sure Father is proud," Greed commented sarcastically. "Is your ability to sense 'chi' how you knew we were out here?"

"Indeed," Dante answered. "I've known you've been living in Dublith since you first came to it. The concentration of chi inside a Philosopher's Stone is difficult to miss."

"And you never thought to pay me a visit?" Greed mock-frowned. "I'm hurt."

Dante snorted. "Not at all. I've thought of coming to see you many times since I sensed you take up residence in Dublith, but that would have meant walking among other humans, and I refuse to do that. I eagerly await the day my stepson purges their filth from this region of the planet. Then I'll truly be able to live in isolation with my family."

Greed's eyes went wide. "You've extracted Homunculi from your human soul? That can be done?" Then he mentally kicked himself. How could he have questioned that? He was the one who liked to say 'can't be done' was the impossibility. Dante might be lying, but he shouldn't be feeling disbelief because everything he knew about alchemy implied no one could do it.

"No," Dante answered, and Greed's jaw dropped. If Dante was telling the truth, there was just one set of things that could mean.

"You've actually…" He didn't finish.

Dante smiled proudly. "Yes. I've intentionally transmuted two pure Homunculi, life forms who are the same as what your father originally was."

"Prove it," Greed commanded her. He could believe she was as brilliant an alchemist as Father, and had been able to discover how to transmute pure Homunculi, but he was no one's fool. He could believe her, but he wasn't going to without proof.

If Dante was aware he'd given her a command, she ignored it. "Not out here," she replied. "I can sense the presence of other life forms, so I'd know if anyone was trying to spy on us, but I don't gift the outside world with their lives when they don't ask me to take them out of the mansion. If you wish to meet them, you'll have to come inside."

Greed thought about it. Dante didn't need to lure him into a trap. She was more than capable of bringing him inside by force if she wanted to hold him prisoner or kill him inside, so he could probably trust he'd be in no greater danger going inside than staying out here.

But he still couldn't trust Dante herself. Her answers to his questions hadn't passed his tests, and just because she didn't need to bring him inside to take him hostage didn't mean she had any intentions of letting him leave. He wanted to trust Dante… If she wasn't lying, she was as much of a genius as Father was and willing to provide for her children, and that meant she could, and would, almost certainly give him an armor body, and perhaps something better, if something better existed he could be transmuted into. He didn't care for the concept of seeking help from someone he couldn't order around, but if Dante was who and what she'd spoken she was, this was incomprehensibly too great an opportunity to pass up. Just this once, and only this once, he'd work with someone who wasn't working for him.

"You'll need to demonstrate to me I can trust you more before I do that," he said back.

Dante sighed, and red currents ran into the mesh, transmuting it back into trees. "So be it. I've freed your possessions without their promise to leave and keep silent about me as a show of good will. I'll take them prisoner again if they don't give me those promises, but I'm willing to let them remain free temporarily as a show of good faith. Does that satisfy you?"

"I'll trust you enough to come with you when I see they've been allowed to depart," Greed responded.

"You will, huh?" Roa questioned rhetorically. "We won't. If you're going in with her, we're going in with you."

Greed sighed heavily. "I told you, that's not loyalty. It's stupidity. You should know that even better now. You saw what she can do."

"I don't care," Bido argued. "We can't abandon you to her."

"You'd be abandoning me to her no matter what you did," Greed responded, and Bido cringed. "If she attempts to kill me or keep me here, you're not going to be able to stop her. All you'll achieve is to hurt me even more by forcing me to see you die before I do." Dolcetto's face paled, and the other Chimeras gave their own evidence they saw the accuracy in his words. "You want to do something for me, so you can accomplish that by not causing me to fear your deaths are all but written in stone. Give her the promises, return to Dublith, and if I haven't come back in around three hours, travel to the slum. That will help me."

Dolcetto ground his teeth. "Fine. I hate it, but if that's how we can best serve you, we'll do it."

Martel turned to Dante. "We promise. But if we find out you've hurt Greed in any way and you're idiotic enough to show your face in our presence–"

"You'll keep away from her," Greed interrupted her firmly. "I don't want to be frightened you're going to die in a futile attempt at vengeance any more than I want to be more afraid you're going to die here. You'll serve me as you have for years. Understand?"

Roa sighed. "Yes, sir," he spoke, his unwillingness obvious in his words.

"Then there's no longer any reason for me to permit you to stay her," Dante interjected. "Leave now, or I _will_ kill you."

Martel gave her an angry, distrustful look, but the Chimeras, a number of them muttering, headed into the trees and in a period of time were out of sight. Greed kept his guard up, ready to attempt to attack Dante if she gave chase or sent a transmutation after them, but minutes passed and she did nothing.

"Are you satisfied now?" Dante asked when they'd been gone for a good amount of time.

Greed turned to her. "Not nearly enough to trust you fully, but enough to…" He wanted to swallow his tongue and choke on it before he spoke the words, but he forced himself to continue. "…Make a request of you."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "That changes things." Greed tensed. "If you want my help with anything I require something from you in exchange. Not an Equivalent Exchange – I don't believe in that fairytale –" Greed's eyebrows rose. That was a new one, "But something in exchange nonetheless. I want your word you'll remain here with me for a few months until I've gotten to know you a little. Then I'll hear and grant your request."

That would cause his Chimeras to fear he wasn't coming back. Greed fisted his hands and clenched his teeth.

But Dante, if she wasn't deceiving him, had agreed to do what he wanted if he stayed with her. He might have successfully walked onto the path towards attaining his desire. He didn't want to hurt his Chimeras, but his desires came first. Compared to what he wanted, what happened to them didn't matter so long as none of them died.

But something was wrong. There was a new emptiness inside him now, one similar to the thirst he'd had from the instant of his birth, but that was different and somehow worse in multiple ways. What was going on?

He pushed the thoughts aside. He might get what he wanted. Whatever the new emptiness was, it would be filled up then.

Why didn't he believe that?

He pushed that question aside too.

"I'll make that bargain," he answered. "But _I_ want it to be an Equivalent Exchange." Dante sighed, but nodded. Pleased he had a say in this, Greed continued. "I want to know who you are, what your relationship with Hohenheim was, why you hate humans, and why and how you acquired a Stone body. I also want to know how you transmuted your pure Homunculi, and if and how you intend to provide your children bodies they can survive in outside flasks. I'm certain, if they're real, they aren't any happier than Father was being imprisoned in flasks. Lastly, I want to know what you plan to do with your immortal life."

"There's no need for us to make a deal for me to tell you the life I plan to live," Dante spoke. "I have no extensive designs on Amestris, or anywhere else." Greed's eyebrow rose. Had she lied about having regard for Homunculi? If she hadn't, then how did she intend to free her children from their flasks? Greed knew she hadn't already. Dolcetto had just sensed one living Philosopher's Stone in the mansion, not three. "All I want is to dwell here in isolation with my children for eternity.

"As for the rest… I agree." She extended her hand, traces of hope appearing on her face, but Greed didn't shake it.

She glared at him.

But then she smiled. "No matter. The important thing is I'll finally get to know you.

"Welcome home, grandson."

.

"You're the Fullmetal Alchemist, you say?" the woman receptionist behind the hotel desk questioned. "I find that hard to believe. You're Alphonse Elric, and you're lying because you're jealous of the older brother of yours standing next to you."

Al sighed, and he didn't know what worried him more. How Brother would react, or the possibility he _wouldn't_.

Brother clenched his teeth and yanked his State Alchemist's pocketwatch out of his pocket. Al shifted. His brother was pretending to be angry at Al having been mistaken for him again to try to hide how uncomfortable he felt showing it to someone, but Alphonse could see it as clearly as he knew Brother would have thrown it away if he hadn't been frightened doing so would get Winry and Granny killed. His brother slammed the pocketwatch on the desk.

"What is it with you people?" he asked. "Why do you keep thinking the Fϋhrer gave the name 'Fullmetal Alchemist' to the person _wearing_ the armor? Why don't you think the Fϋhrer gave the name to the person who might have _transmuted_ the armor?"

The woman looked apologetic. "You get that a lot, huh?"

Brother sighed heavily. "You have no idea."

"I'm sorry," the woman spoke. "At any rate, if you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, I have a message for you. Minutes before you arrived here, someone dropped off a large envelope for you with the return address written in Xingese."

That had to be one of the Freezer's Xingese texts. Thank goodness.

"Can I see it?" Brother questioned.

The woman reached under the desk, and after numerous seconds pulled out a manila envelope. She handed it to his brother, and he opened it up, then turned the opened side toward his hand. A small booklet slid out onto his hand.

Brother opened it and looked through it, then faced the woman. "It's an alchemy text I ordered from Xing. The trader carrying it must have been in Central and seen us coming here. Thank you for letting us know about it."

"You're welcome." The woman smiled.

They'd phone Teacher McDougal had reached them without telling them how to contact him from a telephone booth after they were settled in, then get to work studying it. Al was pleased to find the knowledge they'd be learning new alchemy could still excite him.

"Now then, if you'll sign in." The woman slid a form on a clipboard to Brother.

His brother put the booklet down, and as he filled the paper out, Al opened the booklet. He needed to get a head start on learning alkahestry. Brother had slept last night, and the knowledge he needed to be as alert as possible to learn alkahestry with less trouble would keep him sleeping decently, but his brother's sleep last night had been the worst yet and he'd woken up even more often than before. Al extremely highly doubted that was going to change until they saved Winry and Granny, if it even did then.

But could Al reliably shoulder the majority of the burden of learning alkahestry? That they'd learned from their mistakes didn't make Al the most microscopic amount less infantile. People who grew learned from terrible mistakes the first time, and never made them again. People who grew didn't _still_ want to commit the same sin that had killed their Mom and hadn't ruined the life of the person they loved most after their bratty unwillingness to learn from their mistakes the first time had caused someone else to die.

He was a baby, and now that Winry's capture and his inability to say or do anything for Brother when Brother needed Alphonse incomparably more now had taught Al how hopelessly incapable he really was, he knew he'd never be anything else.

But he'd still give his all to learn alkahestry. It didn't matter how infantile he was. He didn't need Teacher's reassurance to know that his responsibilities were more important than his mental age. Maybe he wouldn't be able to shoulder the burden, and would make another critical error and people would suffer because of it, but he still had to make the _attempt_. He couldn't keep himself from frequently wondering why Brother trusted Al to back him up, but Brother was still relying on him. The people of Amestris still needed him.

He couldn't give up on himself when Brother was, and they did.

He wouldn't have been able to give up again even if that wasn't true. He was a child, but giving up was one of the few childish things he could keep himself from doing, so it was never going to happen again.

Even though he knew it wouldn't be enough to cause Mom to stop being disappointed in him.

But he knew, no matter what he did for the rest of his life, nothing would be. It was long past time he accepted that.

.

Gluttony walked up to Pride in the alley, a very disappointed look on his face. Pride didn't have to ask why. Gluttony hadn't once asked their sister or Pride if he could eat Scar before they'd left Father's underground complex, but Gluttony was Gluttony, and it hadn't taken much time past their departure for his appetite to overcome his fear of Pride and for him to bring up eating Scar. Pride had now heard numerous times his younger brother wanted to devour the serial killer Mustang had identified as an Ishvalan, and after they'd spent nine days hunting for him through East City without Gluttony being able to pick up a trace of the Ishvalan's scent, Pride knew Gluttony must be very unhappy about it. They'd come upon an old Ishvalan male and a young Ishvalan boy in the sewers Pride had given Gluttony permission to eat, but Gluttony didn't like being unable to eat something he wanted to even if he was able to fill his stomach with alternatives.

"I still can't smell another Ishvalan," Gluttony said. "I swallowed a lot of walls in the sewers whole searching for hidden passages and found a lot of them, but I didn't smell any Ishvalans anywhere."

Pride wouldn't have been surprised at this news even if he hadn't seen the look on Gluttony's face. He was all but sure now Scar was no longer in East City, but he'd wanted to make one last sweep of the metropolis before giving up on finding him here.

"I didn't find any evidence of him myself," Pride responded.

"Then we're done here?" Gluttony questioned.

"Yes. We're returning to Central until there's another sighting of Scar. For now, the Ishvalan has eluded us."

.

Forty-Seven Days Later

.

Finally, things were looking up.

Wrath stood with a group of soldiers in the forest before the front of the mansion, an unsheathed sword resting point down on the ground before him, four more swords attached diagonally to the back of his belt. He was confident he was fast enough to defeat Greed with one sword, but you could never be too careful when fighting a Homunculus, and at the age of sixty, Wrath couldn't trust his body to obey him as well as he wanted it to.

Over the past weeks, no one had found any evidence whatsoever of the Freezer's or Scar's whereabouts. To his knowledge, Mustang, his cohorts, and Olivier Armstrong had been loyal soldiers and citizens since he'd taken those close to them hostage, but that was nothing to feel pleased about. He extremely highly doubted Mustang and his partners in treason, or Olivier, if she was involved, would have given up this easily. It was much more likely they were being a lot more careful now, and still plotting against him.

Additionally, Hughes had become a severe nuisance soon after he'd been assigned to his position. Since the day Hughes had invited Wrath to his daughter's birthday party, the male had become insufferable. He was well known around Central for making a pest of himself by interrupting soldiers who were on duty to carry on about how wonderful his daughter was, but until Hughes' invitation the Homunculus had believed the Lieutenant Colonel had the manners not to do that with him.

It was almost certainly because Hughes appeared determined to convince Wrath to betray Father for Cordelia, but Wrath had been wrong. Since that invitation, not a week passed without Hughes pushing at least one photograph of Elicia in Wrath's face and going on and on about his daughter's latest activities or her merits. Wrath was rarely one to act on his sin, but before a month had passed he'd thought about cutting Elicia down with his blade just because the girl had become such an aggravation. But he hadn't gone through with it; he wasn't so petty he'd kill someone for no other reason than how the person was a pain in the neck.

He'd directly ordered Hughes numerous times to stop, but Hughes had taken advantage of how Wrath couldn't reassign the Lieutenant Colonel due to needing him as a hostage and disobeyed his orders every single time. Further, Hughes had no reason to fear being court martialed and dishonorably discharged for disobeying Wrath once he was no longer of any use, because it was almost a foregone conclusion he'd be executed anyway as an accomplice to treason.

Wrath had realized he could use Hughes' disregard of military conduct to his advantage by pretending to give in slightly and arranging for Pride to pretend to befriend Elicia for the purpose of spying on Hughes' activities when he was off duty, and he intended to do so once Scar was no longer a threat, but for the most part there'd been nothing to be happy about during the past weeks. Businesses and employees were eagerly moving from Kelyair to the area where Liore had once stood, so they'd gotten off to a good start in that endeavor, but it was too early to tell whether their plan was going to work in time.

Then Wrath had departed on his inspection tour in the South, and he'd seen Greed's face on wanted posters. And, when he'd learned the criminal on the posters was believed to be operating out of Dublith and traveled there, discovered the Elrics and a woman had been sighted in the vicinity of the bar most thought Greed used as a hideout, and looked into this, he'd learned the Elrics had lived with and learned alchemy under the woman, Izumi Curtis, years ago, and she could transmute by clapping. She and her husband hadn't been seen since the day after the Elrics had been sighted in the vicinity of the bar, which was cause for concern, but her ability to transmute without a transmutation circle was by far the most important thing.

They now knew of the existence of four sacrifices.

In addition, Wrath might be about to put an end to the potential danger Greed represented. There was no guarantee Greed was still in this mansion, but it was enough of a possibility it had further improved Wrath's mood. Whether Greed was here or not, the Homunculus probably couldn't tie up the loose end that was the Chimeras who had escaped Laboratory Three. They'd been sighted returning to Dublith from here and then departing it in another direction the night Greed had been sighted leaving Dublith for this mansion, so Wrath doubted he'd find them here. But capturing Greed would be worthwhile all by itself.

Wrath wasn't worried about what Greed had told the Elrics and Izumi Curtis. They couldn't do anything so long as he held the Rockbells captive.

"Your orders, sir?" Hughes questioned from where he stood to Wrath's right, one hand on his knives.

"The woman who lives in this mansion may be guilty of aiding and abetting a known criminal," Wrath spoke. "We have no proof she's aware she's harboring, or has harbored, a criminal, so if she doesn't resist, make every effort to see she comes to no harm. But if she fights us, she is to be considered a criminal herself and gunned down." Hughes clenched his teeth, but he said nothing. "If the criminal on the wanted posters is here, he is to be taken alive at all costs, though.

"Furthermore, should you witness anything unusual when engaging him, you are to speak of it to no one. This criminal is wanted for stealing highly volatile alchemic research from the government run research facilities in Central, and nothing he may be able to do with that research is safe for the public to know.

"Move out!"

.

"Humanity is a poison that must be purged from this planet!"-Demona

GARGOYLES:

AWAKENING, PART V


	8. Flasks and Fugitives

.

 **CHAPTER 8:**

 **FLASKS AND FUGITIVES**

.

Wrath chopped the double wooden doors leading into the mansion apart diagonally with one slash of his sword, and dove forward into a roll.

He came up out of it in a crouch to find himself in a spacious octagonal foyer with red carpeting and the walls mostly covered by bookshelves stretching from the floor to the ceiling, a black-haired woman in a mainly light purple dress facing him.

She smiled, sadness and pain in it. "So this day has come at last," she said.

Wrath stood up, watching the woman warily. This removed most doubt the woman who lived here knew she had harbored or was harboring a criminal. "I'd hoped it never would, but I knew from the beginning it was likely such hopes would prove foolish."

Hughes moved to Wrath's side, sliding a knife between his fingers, and a deep rage flashed over the woman's face, but she didn't turn to him. The other soldiers fanned out and leveled their guns at the woman.

"Then you know why we're here," Wrath responded. "In that case, put your hands in the air. If you make any other movements, we will mow you down. You're now under arrest on suspicion of aiding and abetting a criminal."

"Tell me," the woman spoke back. "Are you satisfied with a body that ages like a human's?"

Wrath reacted within less than a second.

His sword shifted into an attack position, he sprinted at the woman, swinging it in the direction of her neck to sever her head from her body before she could reveal anything else about his true identity to his soldiers.

But as quickly as he'd moved, the woman was faster.

Or rather, his Ultimate Eye registered as red coursed into the air around her, she didn't need to move at all.

Caught off guard for one of the rare times in his life, even his Ultimate Eye almost didn't enable him to respond fast enough to leap away as the air between him and the woman coalesced into an array of blue-white spikes of light stretching from the floor to the ceiling. Recovering from his surprise, he dropped to the floor so Hughes could hurl his knife at the woman and his troops could open fire, but many of the spikes of light elongated forwards, deflecting the knife and bullets. Wrath hissed and, seeing none of the spikes were aimed at him, he rolled to the side into Hughes, knocking his hostage over and covering the Lieutenant Colonel with his body. As he'd assumed would happen, the spikes heading for Hughes stopped inches from Wrath, but the others continued through the air, impaling his soldiers through the chests, heads, and necks.

Wrath rose and spun, hurling Hughes out the broken door with his free hand hard enough he'd almost certainly be knocked out when the back of his head hit the stone porch, and throwing his blade with pinpoint accuracy between the spikes of light at the woman's forehead with all his strength. More red currents lit the air, but the sword was moving too swiftly for her to intercept it and it struck true.

It snapped into two pieces like it had hit a surface of diamond.

Wrath snarled. That wasn't unexpected, but that meant the outcome of the battle was a foregone conclusion, and never before had he been this powerless to defeat someone when he wasn't in the presence of Father. Pride outmatched Wrath by a large margin, but even against him Wrath's Ultimate Eye would have given him a chance of victory. Until now, Father was the only person Wrath had encountered who he'd been completely and absolutely powerless to overcome, and he found he didn't like it happening with anyone else.

Especially not someone who might be human.

"You know how to use your Stone," he acknowledged. "Transmuting the particle properties of light… impressive. Even Father doesn't know how to do that, though that's just because he's never taken the trouble to learn. He's never felt the need. Still, your skills are to be reckoned with.

"But we both know you're delaying the inevitable. The rest of Father's family is as loyal to him as I, and he holds the strings entwining this nation tightly within his grasp. You cannot withstand everything we can bring to bear against you. And he will bring it to bear against you if you continue to oppose me. He's accounted for Van Hohenheim. You are a mystery, and you know of us. You're thus a greater danger than Van Hohenheim, and we cannot allow an unpredictable living Stone who is aware of us free rein if that Stone stands in our way. If Greed is still within this mansion, let me take him to Father. If you don't, we will acquire both of you by force."

"You will do no such thing," the woman responded. "I assume you're referring to destroying my mansion and research, besieging me, and starving me of food and drink and preventing me from sleeping until I surrender to you to end the torment caused by dehydration, hunger, and exhaustion." So she was human. Wrath snarled. "But I'm willing to endure any torture until the Promised Day arrives," so she knew of their plan, in part or in whole, as well, "and your father discovers I'm no threat. I will not return to the outside world, no matter how unpleasant you make my stay here.

"All you'll achieve by besieging me is to waste valuable time and resources. Tell your father to leave his stepmother alone." Wrath's eye went wide. "I'm not going to submit to him, and I don't intend to cause him any problems. He's better off continuing to see his goal through to the end, and ignoring that I exist."

"We have no surety of that," Wrath replied. "If you won't submit, that will be your choice, but if you don't stop hindering me, we cannot leave you to do as you will. I'll order you once." It was a shame he had to continue to threaten a woman who might be part of his family, but as she was a potential danger to Father, their possible relationship meant as little to Wrath as it did Greed was Wrath's brother. "Stand aside. If you don't, I will leave, and your life of peaceful isolation will be at an end. Alternately, you can attempt to kill me, but if you succeed Father will send his most able Homunculus here to investigate what happened, and you won't be able to keep him from returning with the truth about you."

"I have little doubt I could keep Pride from escaping with awareness of me," the woman rejoined, "But that's not why I won't kill you. I have no desire to kill someone who should have been one of my grandchildren unless my hand is forced.

"That said, I will not stand aside. If you and my stepson wish to send whatever forces you have at your disposal after me, go ahead."

"Then you've dug your grave," Wrath spoke, inclining his head. "But before I take my leave, I have a question. I take it you were close to Van Hohenheim. What, precisely, was the nature of your relationship with him?"

"As we probably won't be talking again," the woman responded, "I'll tell you. It may be my sole chance at connecting with you in any fashion.

"Van Hohenheim was my husband during the time he improved the alkahestry of Xing. Would I be right to assume you know about that?"

Wrath nodded.

"We met–"

The door in the right side of the foyer opened, and Greed walked into the room.

Anyone else, Wrath knew, wouldn't have had the tiniest chance of escaping alive.

However, his Ultimate Eye saw the two amorphous black heads with thin arms, large-toothed mouths, and upside down, curved red eyes in the flasks in Greed's hands before Dante registered Greed was carrying them, and, feeling mysteriously exhilarated, he was sprinting before red crackled into the air and the spikes of blue-white light elongated in his direction.

He bent and picked up the Lieutenant Colonel on the porch with one hand, pulling his hostage against his chest, then Wrath hurled himself down the stairs, but agony erupted along Wrath's back as he did, the spikes tearing deep gouges through it. Clenching his teeth against the pain, knowing the spikes would curve down after him, he reached up and seized one of the lowermost spikes with his free hand, then twisted himself to the right to avoid losing too much of the momentum he'd gained from his run and swung himself in the direction of one of the windows as hard as he could. The spikes turned to follow him, but as they reached him again he kicked through the window and fell into a roll. He looked back, and as he'd hoped, the spikes had slowed down and were positioning themselves to move through the opening he'd made in the window, the woman unwilling to damage her house to kill him.

But the spikes didn't spread throughout the blue carpeted room. They curved in his direction. Even though the woman couldn't see him, she still somehow knew where he was. By this time, though, Wrath had opened the door to the room and was in the hallway outside. He slammed it shut and then sprinted down the hallway to a door on the left, kicked it open, and sprinted at the window to the outside.

But more spikes coalesced outside the window in red light.

Wrath snarled. How was she aware where he was?

He probably had one chance. This woman was as brilliant as Father, so she'd probably anticipate anything clever he attempted. That meant he'd have to do something direct.

Without slowing down, he hurled himself bodily through the window, ignoring the pain as the broken glass tore against his body, and grabbed one of the uppermost spikes with his free hand, hurling himself into a somersault with all his strength and increasing his momentum. More spikes formed out of the air in red around him as he did, but he was aware they were forming before the woman was, and he grabbed the lowest spike this time and swung forwards with all his strength, increasing his momentum further.

He passed the tree line, but his Ultimate Eye was able to see the branches as they approached even moving at this speed, and he seized one, hurling himself forward as hard as he could, increasing his momentum more, and throwing himself at a trajectory that would require him to move just a little to grab the next branch, then again. He didn't stop until he was moving so fast he knew he wouldn't be able to react in time to grab branches no matter how little he had to move his body even though his eye would see them coming, and then he brought his feet forward, rebounded off one last branch and threw himself at the ground, and came up in a roll when he collided with it.

He looked back and saw red playing over the trees in his direction, but it was far enough away he was probably safe now. Nevertheless, he took off at as fast a sprint he could and wound his way through the trees, continuing to move until he emerged from the other side of the forest and saw Dublith spread out down the hill before him.

Just then did he stagger to a halt, and dropped Hughes. He bent over, rested his hands on his knees, and struggled to regain his breath from exertion that had been more than his body would have been able to take even in his prime.

That had been too close.

But he wasn't angered by the first true brush with death he'd experienced in his life. As the adrenaline faded and he became more aware of the pain of his wounds and the warm blood on his back, he didn't know why, but he was smiling through his heavy breaths.

Why? What was there to smile about after what had just happened?

He thought back, and it didn't take long to know.

He'd needed to make sure he didn't drop Hughes, hurt him, or get him wounded by the woman's transmutations, but during the time he'd been fleeing for his life he'd felt…

 _Free_.

It was the only word he had that described it. For the first time he could remember, he'd felt almost completely unencumbered by anything. Outside of Hughes, all that had mattered was doing whatever it took to live. His rank, his loyalties, and everything else had vanished, replaced by little but an instinct to survive for no one's sake but his own. For the first time in his life, he had barely been burdened by anyone else's needs, and had been striving mostly for himself and for little but himself.

He sighed. He didn't want it to be over.

But what he wanted didn't matter. It never had. His place and purpose in life had been written out for him from the moment of his adoption as the nameless person who had been trained to become the Fϋhrer of Amestris, and then from his rebirth as Father's youngest son. He'd long since accepted that.

He found his gaze lowering to the Lieutenant Colonel, and jerked it away with a grimace. He couldn't believe himself. Hughes was wrong. A son lived to obey his parents. Wrath wasn't going to doubt that now just because he'd found doing something for himself enjoyable. What Wrath enjoyed meant nothing just as what he wanted meant nothing.

He never should have chosen his wife by himself. He should have left that decision up to Father as he had so many other things.

From now on, Wrath would confiscate whatever pictures of Hughes' daughter the Lieutenant Colonel brought on duty and burn them until Hughes stopped showing them to him. Wrath wasn't going to put up with this absurdity any longer. He wasn't an opportunistic criminal or misguided victim of tragedy who hadn't lost his or her soft heart as any number of ruthless people were in storybooks. He'd been raised and born to be ruthless for the sake of the family depending on him, and he'd lost what softness had existed in his heart years before he'd been transmuted into a Homunculus. That Hughes thought human weakness and sentiment, outside of Wrath's love for his father, could mean anything to Wrath was insane, and he refused to tolerate that ludicrousness another second.

He lifted the Lieutenant Colonel, keeping his gaze on the hill Wrath had to descend, and walked down it, careful of his injuries.

.

Dante walked into her foyer, hands clenched so hard her nails would have drawn blood from her palms if she'd still had ordinary human skin, furious and experiencing anguish that was worse than it had been since she'd transmuted Patricia out of Trisha's blood, and a guilt she'd believed herself incapable of now. She glared at Greed, who was still holding Joshua and Patricia, still wanting to kill _him_. Her children were the reason she'd had to attempt to kill Wrath, but Greed was the one who had brought them here.

If Greed was aware of this, he didn't show it.

"Why?" she asked. "This was probably my one chance at forming any kind of tie with Wrath, and you knew it. Why did you force my hand?"

"Because there was no point not doing so," Greed replied. "You have no future with them as a family, and you know it. It would have been a waste of your time bonding with him, and you'd have had to attempt to kill him sooner or later anyway. Joshua and Patricia wanted to see their 'nephew,' so I granted their request.

"And I'm glad I did. To think the Fϋhrer of Amestris is a Homunculus, and a Homunculus can age like a human can. Those things were worth learning."

"No wonder the Dwarf in the Flask wants you restrained," she hissed. "You truly are a selfish bastard with no compassion for your family."

Greed shrugged. "So? Better that than my siblings' unconditional devotion to Father just because he's their parent. They're tame lapdogs who wouldn't know what to do with themselves if something happened to Father. I don't need anyone to thrive in the world.

"That's something you could stand to learn yourself. Stop pining over Hohenheim. You've done fine by yourself for centuries. You don't need him again, and you never did in the first place."

Dante ground her teeth. "Don't talk to me about things you know nothing about. You've never loved another person in your life."

Greed snorted. "I hate to break it to you," he responded, "Dante, but you weren't in love with Hohenheim. And–"

Her jaw dropped, and then blinding fury consumed her completely. If Greed hadn't been holding Patricia and Joshua, she wasn't sure she _wouldn't_ have trapped him in light spikes, run at him, and broken his Philosopher's Stone and killed him.

"Leave my children here and remove yourself from my presence," she snarled, and then remembered Greed didn't do anything if he was ordered to. "Please," she grated.

Greed shrugged and placed the flasks holding Joshua and Patricia on a nearby table, then departed down the hall he'd entered from.

As soon as he was out of sight she walked over to the flasks, picked them up, and pulled them close against her.

"It's all right, Mom," Joshua reassured her. "We love you, and you know it's not because you transmuted us. But even if we had been born of your blood, we wouldn't love you because you gave birth to us. We love you because you take care of us, and you're doing your best to try to free us from these flasks. You know that, right?"

Dante shuddered. "Of course I do," she spoke back. "But I needed to hear that. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Joshua's mouth closed, vanishing, and then reopened, a gesture Dante knew meant he was giving her a real smile.

.

Scar climbed carefully up the back of the clock tower above the entrance to Central's train station, breaking handholds into the surface of the building with blue energies from his right hand.

The wind stung the new scars covering the front of his left arm, but he was used to it by now, and his left arm was no longer a handicap. His burns had finished healing as well as they were going to over a week ago. The burn scars didn't slow down his climbing at all.

But he was beginning to believe he was wasting his time. When he'd arrived in Central almost three weeks after the Flame Alchemist had nearly killed him, the city had been buzzing with rumors. Around the time he'd been in East City, an abandoned alchemical research complex had mysteriously collapsed, and the following day the First Branch of the National Central Library had been burnt to rubble. Furthermore, soon after, the employees who had been working at the First Branch of the library had started vanishing, one at a time or in groups of two or more, and it had been discovered four whole research teams from the third government run alchemic research laboratory had disappeared too. Theories as to why ranged from beliefs assassins working for an as yet unknown rebel cell were committing terrorist acts, to beliefs spies from Aerugo, Drachma, or Creta had infiltrated Central and the government was purging its most important secrets to prevent Amestris' enemies from learning them.

Scar had believed Amestris had fomented the Ishvalan genocide on purpose, but these mysterious incidents, coming so soon after the time Mustang had learned of Scar's older brother and might have learned the truth about the War of Extermination, had erased most of Scar's doubts. The Amestrian government had wanted Scar's race wiped out from the beginning. They'd incited the Ishvalans to rebel to justify slaughtering them.

The question was why.

Scar had spent the weeks since hunting for anyone who had worked at the First Branch who hadn't yet disappeared and interrogating him or her, wearing faded white rags with a low hanging hood and his Sunglasses to hide his identity, about all the texts he or she knew had been stored there. However, no one had been able to tell him anything, and he was now losing hope he'd be able to find out why his people had been exterminated by himself.

Scar hadn't believed it was possible for him to hate Amestris any more than he had after his people had been massacred, but Mustang's revelation Amestris had intended to exterminate his ethnicity when the Ishvalans had been living peacefully, if uneasily, as citizens of Amestris and hadn't been a danger to anyone had proved him wrong. Now his hatred was increasing further. His people had been massacred, tortured, experimented on, and treated as if they were less than even beasts, and they may have succeeded in preventing who might be the sole surviving Ishvalan from knowing the reason.

If they had, he'd teach them an Ishvalan could inflict pain so much more effectively than the Flame Alchemist's burns had their minds would break from terror and agony.

He'd catch sleep atop the clock tower, then resume his hunt for employees at the First Branch, but if he didn't discover anything in a few days, he was done investigating. He'd capture and torture the members of High Command one by one until each of their minds shattered under the strain of their terror of his deconstruction transmutations and the pain he'd inflicted on them, starting with Fϋhrer Bradley.

He was wondering if he should abandon his search for the truth and go after Bradley now. The news had spread like wildfire throughout the country. Five days ago, the Fϋhrer had been badly wounded in the town of Dublith while on an inspection tour of the Southern Region, and he was now laid up in a hospital there. He was doubtlessly well guarded, but he was more vulnerable now than usual.

Scar reached the top of the clock tower and lifted his head over the low rim surrounding the roof, then froze.

He wasn't alone.

A young man with black hair in a ponytail and wearing a mostly orange shirt and white pants, a wide sword attached to the back of his waist, stood at the front of the roof, looking out at the city.

"Something about this country doesn't feel good," he remarked.

Scar's eyebrows rose, and he quietly climbed over the rim of the roof, but the figure must have heard Scar, for he turned, revealing blue eyes set in the facial shape of a native of Xing, and his right hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

"Stealth will do you no good," the person said, looking at him warily. "Who are you?"

Scar walked around the raised white section of the roof. "You have no need to know that," he responded. "What did you mean, 'something about this country doesn't feel good?'"

"Why should I tell you?" the young man questioned.

"Because I may have heard similar words before," Scar replied. The chances of there being a connection between his brother's words and this figure's words were unlikely, but at this point he was desperate. He needed to seize any chance he might have a lead, no matter how slim it was. "My late brother once told me something is wrong with Amestris' alchemy. If that's what you're referring to, I'd like to know more."

"Yes," the young man replied, and Scar sighed in relief. He'd done the right thing. At last, he might be getting somewhere. There was no reason to believe whatever was wrong with this nation's alchemy was related to why his people had been slaughtered, but without any clue why his kinsmen and kinswomen had been massacred, _any_ mystery Amestris shrouded could be a potential path to an answer. Now that he was thinking about this, he wondered if he should recover his brother's notes rather than assassinate High Command if he failed to learn anything here. That would mean finding a civilian Amestrian alchemist who he could coerce or request to decipher the sections Scar hadn't been able to, and he loathed the concept of doing that, but it was more important he know why his people had been exterminated. "That's what I'm referring to. There's energy that can power transmutations flowing beneath the soil in a way it shouldn't be."

"How can you tell?" Scar questioned.

"Because I'm from the Empire of Xing," the young man responded, and Scar's eyes went wide. "I have no skill in alkahestry, what you know as alchemy, but I've been taught how to read the energy that powers it. And that energy isn't flowing right." Scar wanted to ask what the person meant by 'reading,' but it wasn't important now, so Scar didn't. "It's gathered together and tumultuous, and feels like people climbing all over each other."

"How is it supposed to feel?" Scar asked.

"Like water in a river flowing at a soothing rate," the person spoke back.

"How did your brother know about the Dragon's Pulse?" the figure asked. "You don't appear to be from Xing."

"I'm an Ishvalan," Scar identified his race. "My brother studied both the alchemy of Amestris and the alkahestry of Xing. He told me little about his research, though. I've heard the term 'Dragon's Pulse,' and seen it in the pages of the research notes he left me I was able to decipher myself, but I don't know what it is. He went into detail about it, but I didn't take the time to learn its workings. I was interested in learning what I could do with the Xingese transmutation circle he left me, not how it functioned."

Interest appeared in the young man's eyes. "You practice alkahestry?"

"In a fashion," Scar evaded. He didn't want to put this person more on his guard by revealing he just used alchemy to destroy, never to create.

"I've told you all I know," the person revealed, but Scar wasn't discouraged. What he'd learned from the Xingese figure was a place to truly start. "What can _you_ tell _me_ about what's wrong with this nation?"

Scar suppressed the urge to grimace. If the figure only knew. "Nothing about what's wrong with its alchemy," he spoke back. "My brother probably knew a lot about it. There were many parts of his research notes I couldn't decipher, and he covered everything else I was aware he knew about alchemy and alkahestry in the rest of his notes. But, as I said, I couldn't decipher those portions of his notes."

"Oh?" The young man sounded even more interested now. "Where are these notes now?"

Scar's guard rose. "What reason do you have to ask that?"

"I came to Amestris to research one of the more farfetched aspects of its alchemy," the figure responded. "Anything that discusses unusual alchemy might have clues about that. I'd hoped to find clues in Central, hence why I came here, but I'm willing to travel wherever my best lead is. I have about five hundred thousand clanspeople depending on me."

Scar's eyes widened. "You're someone in authority?"

"Not yet," the male replied. "But my clan is counting on me to gain that authority. My name is Ling Yao, and I'm the fourteenth son of the Emperor of Xing."

"Then by 'authority,'" Scar asked, "You mean 'the throne of your nation,' right?"

"Indeed," Ling spoke back. "The throne is passed on to whichever son or daughter holds imperial favor at the time of the prior Emperor or Empress' passing. My father is fatally ill, so all of his children from the various clans of Xing are struggling to be the one to gain his favor. My plan for attaining his favor is to raise my clan's fortunes by gaining the secret to immortality, believed to be possessed by the Philosopher's Stone."

"And if you attain the throne," Scar spoke what had been left unsaid, "Your clan, the Yao clan, I assume, will gain greater prestige." He had other concerns, but he sympathized. He knew full well what it was like to want a better future for one's people. He thought over whether to say more, and then decided to. There was no reason to fear it would cause harm. He had no reason to trust this Ling, if that was truly who he was, but he had no reason to distrust him, and if Ling betrayed him, Scar was confident he could defend himself. "So be it. If you're willing to wait a few days, and I decide to retrieve my brother's notes, I'll take you to them." Ling smiled. "I'm thinking of recovering my brother's notes for my own purposes. As you're aware of, I, too, want to know about this country's mysteries."

"Your motives being?" Ling asked.

"My people were massacred," Scar replied, "Primarily by Amestris' State Alchemists, during a civil war. And the Amestrian government fomented that war for that specific purpose." Now Ling's eyes were the ones that went wide. "I want to know why."

"Then I'll be glad to wait for you," Ling said. "The Xingese way is that of generosity to foreigners in need, and you're clearly in great need. If there's anything else I can do to assist you while you're in Central, assuming it doesn't involve getting back at Amestris for slaughtering the Ishvalans, my retainers and I are at your disposal."

"You have retainers?" Possibilities blossomed in Scar's mind. His brother had spoken highly of how accepting the Xingese were of foreigners, but his brother had believed they could live peacefully as an ethnic minority in Amestris, so Scar had no inclination to believe the Xingese were any less xenophobic than the Amestrians. But this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Two," Ling responded. "Members of a family who have served Yao royalty for generations."

"Then I may be able to get you access to Amestrian alchemical secrets in Central," Scar spoke, and Ling's eyes went wide. Then he smiled a larger smile. "Even if my plan works, however, it will take time, and you'll need to delay recovering my brother's research notes. I also won't lie to you. I won't be helping you possibly access those secrets to take revenge for my people's slaughter, but I _am_ in the process of avenging my Ishvalan kin," Ling's eyes showed dismay, "Through judging all the State Alchemists in this country." The dismay grew. "And I have no intention of stopping. Additionally, I'm now resolved to judge the leaders of Amestris' government as well. With those things in mind, are you willing to cooperate with me?"

"So long as you're not chasing these secrets for the purpose of vengeance," Ling replied, face a mask, "And there's a chance they'll benefit my clan, I will. Where might these secrets be located?"

"In Laboratory Three," Scar spoke back, "A governmental alchemy research facility. Weeks ago, four teams of researchers went missing from there at approximately the same time as another abandoned research facility was destroyed and a branch of Central's national library was burnt. Furthermore, since then, employees from the branch of the library have been disappearing. As this happened soon after the person who informed me my kin had been marked for extermination before the war began may have discovered this, it's likely High Command is covering up evidence."

"Agreed," Ling rejoined. "This sounds like something worth investigating to me. We'll work with you." Scar concealed his relief. Then he might find out true clues in Central. "Give me a chance to send out a smoke signal somewhere it won't gain the attention of anyone but my retainers, and we'll discuss your plan.

"But before I do, I'd like to know your name."

"I threw away my name," Scar responded. "I cannot turn back from the path I have chosen," Ling's face showed no emotion, "So I have discarded the things God has given me. There's no point in retaining them when I cannot live that life any more. Ishvalans believe we are given our names by Ishvala, so I cast away my name as well. You can refer to me how the Amestrian military does: As 'Scar.'"

Ling frowned. "All right." Then he smiled a mostly pleasant smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Scar." He extended his hand.

Scar didn't shake it, and Ling sighed and dropped it.

.

Kimblee looked up from the paperwork on his desk at a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called.

A male, blonde-haired, clean shaven soldier opened the door, walked into Kimblee's office, and closed the door behind him. Then the soldier saluted.

"We believe we've located Isaac McDougal, sir," the soldier said. "Around three-and-a-half hours ago, a male matching McDougal's description was sighted delivering an envelope to a public post office in West City. He eluded the soldiers who followed him, so we don't know where he is now, but we questioned the people who work at the post office and they told us the same male has been dropping off envelopes with two to three week intervals in between to be sent to a post office in the town of Quaig. He's probably still in West City."

Kimblee smiled. "Good job," he complimented the soldier. "See to it the post office in Quaig is contacted. I want to know where those envelopes went from there."

"I already have," the soldier replied. "The post office is a dummy address. There is no postal service there, just an abandoned house, and we were unable to determine where the envelopes went once they arrived at it."

The Crimson Alchemist smiled again. A Central soldier who had acted on his or her own initiative to do his or her job without receiving orders was a rarity. "Excellent work," he spoke. "I'll be sure to recommend you for promotion once I've fulfilled my assignment."

The soldier's eyes widened, and he tried to keep pleasure from his expression. "For what reason, sir? I failed at learning as much as I should have."

"You proved you're dedicated to your duties and work," Kimblee responded. "That devotion deserves to be rewarded. Yes, you failed. But compared to your dedication, your failure is much less important. Be assured, if you were less dedicated to your job and duties I would not have overlooked your failure, and if it causes us too much trouble I might have even recommended you be executed." The soldier went white. "But you possess a unique level of devotion to your duties, and I admire that. I wish more soldiers were like you."

The soldier loosened the collar of his uniform. "Thank you very much, sir," the soldier said nervously.

"See to it you continue to demonstrate that devotion in the future," Kimblee ordered. "You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." The soldier saluted again, turned, and walked quickly out of Kimblee's office, closing the door once he was in the hallway.

The Crimson Alchemist snorted. It still amused him how upset soldiers got when the topic of their execution was raised. Soldiers lived side by side with the prospect of death on the battlefield every day, and it didn't bother them as much. How was death by execution any different than death in battle?

But he had no time to find the answer. He had duties and work of his own to attend to.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number for the hospital the Fϋhrer was being treated at in Dublith.

.

Ed clapped his hands, touched the carpet of the hotel room, and tried to ride the Dragon's Pulse with his mind and transmute a fist out of the carpet in the middle of the transmutation circle with a star equation across the room.

Blue crackled under his hands, and blue coursed through the circle, but the carpet morphed into a bent hand with its fingers barely curved.

He swore.

"You really did do a better job than me this time, Brother," Al said. "My hand didn't even have fingers."

"That's because you tried to transmute your hand out of three layers of solids," Edward replied, "As opposed to one. Could you please give up? You're not going to convince me you're not better than me at this no matter what you say."

Al sighed. "Maybe you're right," he spoke. "But you're still making progress."

That was true. They'd been delivered more alkahestry texts over the following weeks by mail, and they now had multiple booklets at their disposal, but the Freezer had proven he was no alchemy teacher. Ed knew it was partially the subject matter. The science of the Dragon's Pulse that flowed beneath the surface of the planet and within all living things was like nothing Edward had encountered before in his life. He'd had no problems believing energy existed that couldn't be defined by physical laws after the other things he'd learned in the recent weeks, but he'd still never run into anything like it before. But even taking that into account, McDougal's descriptions of what the Dragon's Pulse was were harder to understand than they should have been, and his instructions to read it with one's mind by 'perceiving with your senses and looking for something no sense should be aware of' hadn't told them what the Dragon's Pulse felt like. It had taken them over three weeks to read the Dragon's Pulse, and they'd gained the ability to when they'd realized the sound of flowing water they'd become aware of on the edges of their perception eight days prior hadn't been water they'd been hearing flowing through pipes around the hotel room, but something they'd been picking up without any of their senses. McDougal's instructions had been so flawed they'd learned to sense the Dragon's Pulse without even realizing they were.

Reading the pulse had been just as more challenging than it should have been due to the Freezer's flaws.

There was a bright side to McDougal's shortcomings as a teacher, however. Understanding his lessons had been so challenging Ed and Al had been able to take their minds off of Winry, Granny, and Nina to a degree, to the point alkahestry lessons had filled a small amount of Ed's dreams and prevented them from being nightmares defying nightmares. It was extremely little respite, for Teacher hadn't yet contacted them with news Winry and Granny had been found, but it was respite nonetheless. Their days and nights were still torturous, and after all these weeks the torment still hurt too much Ed was unwilling to carry it more effectively. Additionally, what Edward had learned from Mason eight days ago was torturing them now too, and giving Ed new nightmares.

" _What's going on down there?" Ed questioned. "It's the talk of the city. Someone in Dublith killed a number of soldiers and wounded the Fϋhrer. Was it Greed? And if it wasn't, was it someone we might be able to ally with?"_

" _No one knows," Mason replied. "Bradley was hurt at a mansion on the outskirts of Dublith owned by a reclusive woman alchemist who is rarely seen in Dublith, and whose name no one in Dublith is aware of. But if she's the one who killed the soldiers and injured Bradley, and not Greed, I'd recommend against seeking an alliance with her. She's too much of a mystery. We have no way of knowing what she'll do if she learns about what the one called Father is seeking._

" _She might be working with Greed, though. Greed and his Chimeras were seen traveling in the direction of her mansion the night after you met them, and that night Greed's Chimeras were later seen departing Dublith without him." Edward went white. That meant it might be Ed's fault soldiers had died. The woman alchemist might have revolted because she'd met Greed. Due to Edward's incompetence, he might have failed to prevent death from resulting from treason long before the revolution had even been launched. "Sig's been keeping a watch on the place from a distance – the woman is a talented alchemist. She transmuted her mansion singlehandedly. He knows better than to go near a mysterious recluse that good – but he hasn't seen Greed come out of it. Nor has anyone else seen Greed since that night. There's a good chance he's still in the mansion."_

 _All the blood remaining in Edward's face drained from it, and guilt consumed him fully. No. Even if Ed hadn't been responsible for the deaths of the soldiers, it was now likely Greed had allied with an alchemist who would perform human transmutation on him, if she hadn't already. There was a good chance the alchemist and Greed would end up paying the price for attempting human transmutation, if they already hadn't. Ed should never have told the Homunculus how to transmute a soul._

 _Whether he'd murdered the soldiers or not, Edward likely_ had _hurt even more people with his ineptitude._

" _Brother?" Al questioned outside the phone booth. "What is it?"_

 _Ed didn't want to tell Alphonse, but it wasn't right to hide this from his brother. He looked at Al._

" _Greed may be working with the alchemist who killed the soldiers and injured Bradley," he replied._

 _Al gasped and began to shake violently._

But Edward was a little less exhausted now, and Al was a little less inexpressibly anguished.

"Why don't we take a break," Al questioned, "And attend the harvest festival?"

Ed thought about it. They had no reason to postpone their quest to regain their bodies while studying alkahestry, so they'd taken breaks for multiple days before to research alchemy in the libraries in the hopes of coming upon another way they might be able to get their bodies back, but if they attended the harvest festival, they'd be taking a break for a frivolous reason.

" _For sure!" Nina cried. "Let's play!"_

Ed pushed the thought aside as best he could.

But he didn't have to think about what his answer should be any longer.

"We can't, Al," he sighed. "Nina is dead. We can't justify having fu–"

There was the sound of a detonation, and the glass of the two windows opening to the outside shattered into countless pieces.

Ed got to his feet and ran over to the window, sliding it open and climbing up onto the windowsill to get a better view out at Central.

Numerous streets away, smoke and flames were rising.

Edward struggled to breathe. Had something gone wrong, and Mustang had launched a revolt on his own initiative, one where he didn't care whether or not he shed blood? Had McDougal returned to Central and taken up the plan he'd abandoned?

"Let's check it out, Al!" he cried.

.

The black-haired, ponytailed male running through the narrow alley below them was clad in prison rags, and Edward sighed in relief. This had nothing to do with the revolution, unless the escaping convict below was connected to it. This was just a typical prison break.

He jumped off the windowsill, landing before the prisoner, and crossed his arms. "You did a great job for your costume for the harvest festival, but your fireworks were total failures. As representatives of the law, we can't allow you to disturb the peace that severely. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us and discuss the fines you'll need to pay."

Alphonse dropped down behind the prisoner. "Don't try to resist. Brother's a State Alchemist."

The convict looked down at his right hand, smiled, and then raised it palm forward. Something on it glowed purple, and Ed's eyes widened as he realized it was a transmutation circle with an equation he'd never seen anything remotely like before and the purple was circulating alchemic energy of a color he'd never believed was possible.

This was no typical prison break.

Ice was gathering between the male's fingers, obviously being transmuted out of the air, and then the ice pieces grew into a large clump of frozen matter. The prisoner swung his hand, and it went flying at Edward, separating into icicles as it did. Edward clapped his hands, slammed them to the alley floor, and raised a stone wall out of it, but the icicles pierced the stone wall and it fell apart.

Edward cursed. Whoever this alchemist was, he was better than his ability to transmute moisture out of the air implied.

Al was kneeling and drawing a transmutation circle with chalk, but the convict thrust his left palm behind him, more purple glowed from it, and then two thick purple lightning bolts shot out of it and whipped through the wall of the building to Al's left sending large chunks of it out into Alphonse and over his transmutation circle, covering the circle and sending Al staggering.

Edward clapped his hands again and slapped the wall to his own left, sending stone bars out of it around the mysterious alchemist, but he flipped up into the air onto one of the windowsills, then flipped up onto another across the alley, then across to another. When he was out of range of the bars he held out his left hand, but Edward climbed up the bars after him. When another thick lightning bolt was transmuted out of the convict's left hand, Edward held up his automail arm to block and let the lightning bolt's force throw him back down to the floor, then flipped over in midair to slap the floor and send a stone fist rocketing up out of it diagonally toward the prisoner.

If the alchemist was surprised Edward couldn't be electrocuted, it hadn't enabled him to be caught off guard. The alchemist swung his right hand, sending a large extending icicle down into the rising stone construct and tearing it apart, then flipped up the windowsills again. Al finished drawing a transmutation circle into the wall to his right and activated it, sending a stone rope stretching to the top of the building swinging out of the wall opposite the prisoner, but before it could reach him, he was over the rim of the building and gone.

Edward swore and moved to follow, but his right arm and left leg gave out, sending him to one knee; the lightning bolt that had struck him must have damaged his automail a little.

"Brother!" Al cried, and ran over to him.

Then military police ran into the alley from the front and back, pointing their guns in Edward and Alphonse's direction.

"You were resourceful making it this far," the officer at the front of the group facing Ed and Al said. "But it's all over now. Put your hands in the air and come quietly."

Ed sighed and reached into his pocket with his left hand, intending to identify himself and tell the officers where the prisoner had fled, then return to practicing alkahestry. But as he suppressed a shudder when his fingers closed around his pocketwatch, he stopped moving his arm.

Going back to the hotel was a bad idea.

If he worked with the Central military to solve this case, there was a tiny chance it would lessen the military's suspicions of them a little. It was unlikely, but anything they could do that had any chance of better ensuring Winry's safety and that he wouldn't lose her fully was worth it.

So he pulled out his pocketwatch, and when the military police pointed their rifles at the sky and the officer who had addressed them saluted him, Ed spoke before any of them could. "We're not your escaped convicts. We tried to recapture him, but he got away. Put me in touch with an officer at the Central Command Center. He's a skilled alchemist, and my brother and I are going to need help dragging that punk back where he belongs."

.

To Edward's surprise, when the doors to the lift and staircases leading up to the front gate to the Central Command Center slid open, Mustang and Hawkeye walked out, accompanied by a soldier with short-cropped black hair.

Ed found himself pleased to see them and see they appeared to be all right, and scowled. Nina was still dead and Winry was still a captive. He shouldn't be pleased to see the Colonel, or that he looked as if nothing had happened to him.

Mustang gave Edward the same surreptitious eye signal he'd given Hawkeye in East City over a month ago, and Ed found himself the most infinitesimal amount less tense. He could think of just one reason Mustang was giving him that signal. He was confirming he was receiving Teacher's messages and maps.

"Hello, Colonel," Al greeted, and Ed lost his irritation at the relief in his brother's voice at seeing Mustang was okay. "This was unexpected. I didn't think _you_ would be assigned to assist us."

"Brigadier General Cremin," Mustang spoke back, "In High Command, thought it was better you work with someone you know than a stranger, so long as I'm under watch." He gestured to the soldier they didn't know. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer, the officer in charge of the military's Investigations Department. He'll be observing us while we're together."

Archer smiled at them. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've heard all about you, Fullmetal Alchemist." He nodded at Edward, to show he knew which one of them was the Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ed felt slightly pleased. "Please conduct your discussions as if I wasn't there during them for the most part. I have no intentions of intruding, so long as you don't talk about particular matters the Fϋhrer has ordered you to cease speaking of."

Edward met Archer's eyes. "I'm aware of that," he spoke. "You needn't worry."

.

Ed stood at the edge of the destroyed prison chamber, looking out at the huge opening the escaped convict had blown in the prison and the wall surrounding it, one so large it stretched from the roof of the prison to the ground floor and over an area where many rooms had once been on this side of the prison, on the side of the prison past where the nearest corner had previously been located, and as far back as the prison's watchtower. The watchtower had lost a portion of itself as well.

"He really did a number on this place," Edward commented.

"His name is Melvin Voyager," the prison warden said to Ed and the rest of them, who were standing near him. Lieutenant Hawkeye had a notebook out and was writing in it. "Age twenty-six. Approximately four-and-a-half years ago, he received a five year sentence for burglary and assault, which he was serving in this jail."

"He broke out of prison around four-and-a-half years into a five year sentence?" Mustang asked. "That makes no sense."

"It makes even less sense when you take into account he was scheduled for parole in another approximate two months," the warden replied, sounding as if he understood what Mustang must be feeling. "He was on the verge of legal freedom. He had no reason to escape, and every reason not to commit another crime."

"No reason we know of," Ed corrected the warden, interested in this now for more reasons than trying to increase Winry's chances of remaining alive. Alien transmutation circles that could circulate unique alchemic light with a mystery like this surrounding it meant a number of things, and one of them was it could involve alchemic secrets they were unfamiliar with. It was another potential lead toward getting their bodies back. "Let us speak with the people he was with before he broke out."

.

"Why wasn't that bastard put into solitary!?" a male with brown hair, bandages around his forehead and in multiple other places on his body, and his right leg in a cast, cried where he was sitting up in a bed in a far corner of the prison clinic. "Why was he allowed in the vicinity of other prisoners he could hurt in his personal definition of selfishness!?"

"As far as I'm aware of," Mustang replied, "No one in this prison knew he was an alchemist. Or am I wrong?"

"True," the patient spoke back. "His transmutation came out of nowhere. We were eating supper and listening to the radio, and without warning, Melvin started biting his fingers." The transmutation circles on Melvin's hands _had_ looked like blood. So that was how Melvin had put them there. "We thought it was strange, but we were more interested in listening to the news about the Fϋhrer's condition. Then the cafeteria lit up with forks of purple lightning."

"What was he doing before he began biting his fingers?" Al questioned. "Was he doing anything unusual?"

"All he was doing was reading the newspaper," the injured prisoner responded. "But he did that almost every night."

.

In the ruined cafeteria, Alphonse lifted a mattress out of the way, revealing folded up newspaper pages. Edward bent, retrieved it, and opened it.

They had the beginnings of their answer.

A rectangle had been cut out of the left half of one of the pages.

"This hole is too neat to have been damaged by Melvin's transmutation," Ed said.

.

Hawkeye, standing before Mustang's desk in his office in the Central Command Center, slid a whole copy of the page over Edward's version. "This is an article from yesterday's _Central Times_ , Evening Edition, Page Three."

The portion of the page that had been missing was a picture of Amestrian soldiers escorting a long-haired girl in a shirt, jacket, and shorts.

"So he cut out this picture," Al spoke.

"'Julia Crichton,'" Edward read the caption, "'Taken into custody by the Border Guard.'" He skimmed the article. "According to the article, she's an illegal immigrant from Creta who was arrested with others in Table City."

The name rang no bells, and he looked up at Al. "Do you recall hearing about a 'Table City?'"

"I remember hearing about it somewhere," Alphonse responded, "But I can't recall where."

Hawkeye walked over to a drawer in a desk on the left side of the room, relative to the direction Edward was facing, and pulled out two rolled up maps. She returned to the Colonel's desk and unrolled the larger one, displaying a map of Amestris and the locations surrounding it.

"It's a city on the west edge of Amestris," the Lieutenant told them. "It's on the border with Creta." She unrolled the smaller map, revealing a map of an oval city on a plateau at the western end of a valley through which a train bridge wound.

"What type of city is this?" Ed queried. Positioned the way it was in the valley, and colored pink and magenta in the midst of the light green representing Cretan territory, the city appeared unusual. "It looks like a balloon."

"That may be something I'll need to find out," Mustang responded. "You've done enough, Fullmetal. Leave the rest of this to me. Lieutenant, contact the military police in Table City. Then investigate where Melvin Voyager lived before he came to Central, and pay a visit to that location."

Hawkeye saluted. "Yes, sir." She walked towards the entrance to the office.

Edward glanced at Archer, standing quietly near the wall to his right, but he doubted it would hurt if the Fϋhrer discovered they were searching for a way to get their bodies back. He needed them.

Could he and Al leave Central now, however? Teacher hadn't mailed them an advertisement saying she was almost done telling Mustang what Mustang needed to know, but Ed doubted it would be _that_ much longer before she did. Could he and Al leave Central when the time to infiltrate the base of the one called Father might be that near?

They could. Teacher was smart enough to mail them her advertisement no later than when she believed it would be at least around two weeks before she was done contacting Mustang, and might send it sooner, so they could afford to be a few days late reading her message. Edward couldn't abandon Amestris even when it meant risking Al's salvation, but he wouldn't be abandoning Amestris if he took a chance at restoring their bodies when it was almost certain they had the time to.

"I'm not doing that," Ed told the Colonel. "This may have been enough to accomplish one of my goals, but I'm interested in this for another reason. This prisoner could easily have broken out at any time with his power, but he didn't. His transmutation circles were strange as well. There's an alchemy-related mystery more peculiar than most wrapped up with this."

"So you think he was using a kind of alchemy we know nothing about?" the Colonel questioned.

"There's something more to this than an alchemist criminal with connections to Table City," Al spoke back. "We know that much. That means we might be able to regain our bodies if we investigate further."

"True," Mustang said. "All right. You have my permission to go to Table City."

"Thanks," Alphonse spoke, and Ed looked away. A lot had changed, but that didn't mean he was willing to thank Mustang for his permission to follow this lead any more than he'd been willing to thank him any of the times in the past he'd given them permission to investigate something.

The familiarity of the situation sent a hot throb of longing through Ed, and he wanted to close his eyes and pretend things _were_ still the same, and they were in Mustang's office in East City and the Colonel had just given them permission to look into a rumor or supposed sighting of the Philosopher's Stone, and Al had expressed the gratitude Edward knew his brother wished Ed would possess for once, and Edward was refusing to feel any of it whatsoever.

But he couldn't think like that any longer. He'd accepted the Truth now. He'd lost that life as fully as he'd lost his life in Resembool when he'd attempted human transmutation.

He snorted. He missed his life as Mustang's subordinate. Would wonders never cease.

"We've never been that far west before, Brother," Al said. "This will be a whole new experience for us."

Edward was thankful for his brother's attempt to raise his spirits, but he didn't even force a smile. He'd stopped weeks ago. It was pointless to force smiles he didn't feel.

.

"Nothing else even seems to exist, outside of my pure instinct to survive."-Wrath

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD

Episode 60: EYE OF HEAVEN, GATEWAY OF EARTH


	9. An Atlas Drawn in Blood

.

 **CHAPTER 9:**

 **AN ATLAS DRAWN IN BLOOD**

.

"So the escaped convict isn't truly Melvin Voyager," Roy said into the phone.

"Indeed, sir," Hawkeye replied. "In addition, the people who knew him at his hometown told me he left for Central nine years ago, intending to look for work there. He also left no family behind. He's an ideal person to use as a false identity."

"The mystery deepens," Roy spoke. "You've learned enough, Lieutenant. Return to Central."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant responded.

The phone clicked, and Roy sighed, placing his phone in the receiver. Another multi-layered alchemic mystery. That was just what they needed at a time like this.

Roy doubted whoever was impersonating Melvin Voyager was in league with the Fϋhrer and the Homunculi. He knew he didn't have the complete story from Izumi Curtis yet, but if the fugitive was in league with Bradley, Archer would have ordered him to recall the Elrics by now. Archer had had plenty of time to report the prison break and his following conversations with the Elrics to Bradley.

He picked up one of the books about Table City from the high stacks covering his desk and opened it. Hopefully he'd be able to discover the answers to this mystery within a shorter period of time than it was taking him to learn the answers to the mysteries surrounding the Fϋhrer and High Command.

.

Ed remembered a time when he would have been impressed at the size of the barren valley and the barren mountains with plateaus rising out of it, as well as the length of the train bridge that wound its way across the valley. The multi-level city of rising concentric circles, or ovals – he couldn't tell which from this distance – on the largest of the plateaus, with its tower and the smoking volcano behind it, would have awed him once.

Now, all he knew was terror he'd never be able to tell Winry about it.

"So that's Table City," Alphonse commented, looking out the window above him. "What a strange shape to build a city in. What's the point of building it on multiple levels when the top of the mountain is a plateau?"

"Whatever it is," Ed replied, "Let's hope that's not something we'll need to learn."

The door to the car behind them slid open, and an Amestrian soldier walked in to their car, followed by two others. "Will all passengers please get out your entry permits for inspection?" the soldier at the front inquired as he entered.

Edward sighed and pulled his head back in. He'd made sure they'd packed swiftly enough they'd have time to buy tickets, but he'd forgotten they'd need a passport to enter a border town. Hopefully his pocketwatch and rank would get him in. Otherwise this could cause them a problem.

It was best to deal with this as soon as possible. The more time he had to argue with the soldiers, the better their chances of getting off this train without having to fight any soldiers and possibly drawing suspicion to themselves and hurting Winry.

"Leave this to me, Al," he said. He pulled out his pocketwatch and walked down the aisle to the soldiers, who had stopped beside an elderly couple and were looking at their passport.

"And what might be your business in this city?" the soldier holding the passport asked.

The old man looked at Ed, and then replied, "We're taking a family trip. My daughter just had a baby."

"Oh, you must be so happy," the soldier spoke back, and to Edward's surprise, he raised his baton as he spoke. "Congratulations!"

He swung it down at the old man, and Edward reached out and caught it in his automail hand, holding it against his pocketwatch–

To find himself staggering to the side as the elderly couple pulled off their hats, revealing them and the faces beneath to be masks concealing a brown-haired male and a brown-haired woman of middle age. The male elbowed Edward in the stomach and then punched at his face, but Edward caught the punch in his left hand. The woman grabbed for the baton, but Edward brought it out of her reach and stepped down hard on the right foot of the soldier holding it with his automail foot. The soldier fell back, and Edward dropped the baton and pushed the male back into the woman.

Then he held out his pocketwatch for all of them to see.

"That's enough of that," he cried, "All of you! Settle down or face arrest!"

The civilians grabbed the top of the seat in front of them and vaulted over it, then ran down the aisle. As they did, Edward hurried to the window and looked out it, and was unsurprised to see the male leap off the platforms connecting the cars and a soldier in the connecting car fire a net, catching the brown-haired civilian. The woman pulled back inside their car, turned, and held up her hands. The soldier who Edward hadn't hurt and hadn't first asked for the passengers' permits walked up to her and handcuffed her hands behind her back.

"Taking prisoners without asking questions first," Ed sighed, facing the officer who had first requested to see their permits, who was now saluting him. "I assumed I'd encounter that from the troops here. Cities on the border of countries we're at war with tend to do a good job fostering corruption. It's good to see I won't be dealing with anything different from the regular here."

The officer glared. "Those are Cretan spies. The Table City military and military police possess integrity equal to that of the most upstanding soldiers in Amestris."

"Sure they do," Edward replied sarcastically. But there was no reason to disbelieve the officer, so he let the matter drop. "Do you want to see my passport, too, or is my rank as a State Alchemist not sufficient to grant me admission?"

The officer's face became a mask. "It's sufficient." Thank goodness. "But do us a favor and stay out of our business next time until you've asked questions yourself."

"Sure, sure," Ed responded. He looked at the soldier whose foot he had stepped on, and masked his emotions. He didn't want to say this, but he needed to be cautious. "I'm sorry about that. Do you want me to take a look at your foot?"

The soldier scowled. "No, thank you." He turned his back and walked carefully towards the car he'd emerged from, favoring his right foot.

Then the door to their car from that car slid open again and people ran in, screaming.

Edward's eyes went wide. "Al, let's move!" he cried.

Al got to his feet, and the two of them raced into the connecting car, accompanied by the three soldiers, to see a male in a black suit and hat with short brown hair, glasses, and a brown mustache holding an Amestrian soldier up in the air above him at his side by the collar of the soldier's uniform shirt. A dog lay unmoving on the aisle behind him as the figure faced another soldier who was pointing a rifle at him.

"Put him down," the officer who had requested the passports ordered. "Now. Or we will open fire."

The male in the black suit snarled and threw the soldier he was holding at the one aiming the rifle hard, sending them both to the floor. "Four soldiers and an Amestrian Dog," he said. "I don't need to confront obstacles like this."

His face and hands began to shift, and his hands grew larger and his nails elongated into brown claws. Ed's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Then even larger almost white furred fingers with big, long black claws and pink, fleshy palms burst from under the Chimera's hands. His boots shifted and almost white furred feet with more large, long black claws ripped out from under them, and then his face elongated into a brown furred snout with an orange mane, wolf's ears, and great, sharp teeth. Green coursed through the air and the face enlarged and became fully wolfish, the figure's glasses and hat flying off and breaking and ripping apart, and then more green currents ran over the Chimera as his body expanded, ripping off the upper part of his suit and revealing a brown furred, muscular body with a big outer mane of white fur. The body stopped growing, the green stopped coursing and shining, and now a large Chimera with red eyes and no tail transmuted from a human and a wolf stood before them on two legs.

"You're a Chimera!?" Alphonse shouted.

"What are you talking about!?" the officer cried.

"I have no business with you," the Chimera spoke. "Leave me be." He raised his front claws and sliced through the metal of the roof of the train car with one swing of his paws, then jumped up through the hole he'd created out of sight.

First a mysterious alchemist, now a part-human Chimera with an unknown creator. This was turning into an onion all its own.

"What is _he_ up to?" Ed questioned, running up to the hole. Al picked Ed up and put him on his brother's shoulders, and Edward looked up through the hole to see the Chimera running on all four legs along the roof of the cars towards the engine.

Edward slid forward off Al. "We'd better go after him," he said and ran forward.

As he did, behind them, he could hear the officer crying into the car's radio, "Stop the train! There's a monster on board!" but he ignored it. As they ran down the cars, the train slowed, but shortly afterwards it sped up again, and Edward clenched his teeth. The Chimera must have reached the engine room and kept the train going, and that meant anyone inside the engine room was probably dead.

They reached the door to the last passenger car, but when Ed pulled on the handle, it didn't open. He clapped his hands and touched the door, moving it to the side in a wash of blue, then ran outside and climbed up the ladder on the wall of the car in front of him onto the top of a pile of coal. He ran across the coal and leapt down onto the construct connecting the car to the engine, and as he did a thin male in pink and blue clothes and a brown hat flew over Edward. Ed turned to see Al had caught the male, and relief filled Edward he couldn't see any blood on the male and the thin person was breathing. The thin figure was probably from the engine room.

The Chimera landed behind Al, his back to Edward's brother, and the Chimera ran back the way he'd come. Ed seized the top rim of the car and vaulted back onto the coal pile, and Al moved to Edward's side. But Ed shouted, "Stop this train before it crashes!"

"Okay!" Al responded.

Ed pursued the Chimera onto the roof of the foremost passenger car, and the Chimera turned to face him, his front claws retracted. Ed came to a halt, and clapped his hands, running his left hand over his right arm and transmuting a blade out of his automail arm in blue currents. The Chimera's front claws extended back out of his fingers in response.

"What are you doing here?" Edward questioned, peripherally aware the train was passing onto a part of the bridge with metal suspensions on the sides connected above them by compound metal beams. "Do you know anything about an alchemist who can transmute ice and lightning?"

"You wear automail," the Chimera spoke, not answering. "I assume that means you're the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"That's irrelevant," Edward replied. "What, if anything, is your interest in Table City and an alchemist who can transmute lightning and ice?"

That was when cables plunged into the roof of a passenger car in front of them.

Edward kept his eyes on the Chimera, but above them, he could see figures in partially dark blue suits leap off the bars at the top of the suspensions and the ones connecting them and spread long black wings, catching the air and gliding on it.

Now what?

Edward's slight alteration of his attention from the Chimera was apparently enough for the beast, though, for the Chimera charged at Ed on his two back legs with deadly speed and slashed low with his left claw. Ed spun around him, contorting to the side of a kick from the Chimera's right leg, and swung at the Chimera's left shoulder, but the beast ducked and thrust his left claw at Edward's stomach.

Ed was barely able to leap over it in time, but he did and turned his jump into a flip over the beast's head, then Edward had to bring his automail blade beneath him when the Chimera dropped on his right hand and kicked backwards and upwards with his legs. Ed was thrown forwards, but landed in a roll, put his left hand in front of him, and came up out of the roll into a crouch while pivoting around his left hand.

The Chimera was already on him.

If Ed hadn't spent weeks sharpening his mind to read the Dragon's Pulse he knew he would have died in the next seconds, but the weeks he'd spent sharpening his mind had also sharpened his reflexes, and Edward was able to leap forward under the Chimera's claws as they came down and ram his shoulder into the beast's stomach, sending the Chimera skidding back.

Edward was relieved. His studies of alkahestry _had_ amounted to something by now.

Ed tried to follow up by swinging the surface of his automail sword into the side of the Chimera's head, but the Chimera kneed Edward in the stomach, and Ed's breath rushed out of him as he was thrown back. He somersaulted in the air and landed on his feet, but then the Chimera was on Edward again, and this time the beast didn't leave as large openings with his swipes and strikes. Edward found himself on the defensive and falling back, and then he had to leap onto the coal car. The Chimera followed, lashing at him with short kicks and slashes of his front claws, and then Ed was on the engine, and then he'd been backed to the front of the engine.

This was bad.

But Edward could fight better than he'd been able to over a month ago. He wasn't the same person who had fought Scar and the Fϋhrer and been so severely overmatched by them. There had to be a way to defeat the Chimera.

The train passed between more suspensions connected by bars overhead, and the people with the bat wings, now gliding in the opposite direction the train was moving to the sides of the suspensions, turned and swooped down to resume gliding in the direction the train was outside the suspensions and above the beams connecting them.

The Chimera looked up at them. "Even more obstacles," he said.

With the Chimera's attention not as much on Edward now, he broke into a sprint at the beast, knowing the Chimera wouldn't give Ed the chance to effectively assault the Chimera with a transmutation. But the beast reacted too quickly. He raced to meet Ed on all four legs, and made a powerful swing at him with his left paw. Moving too fast to pull back, Edward was forced to block with his automail blade, but the force of the Chimera's strike was so great Ed was thrown off of the train and into the air.

Desperately, he turned his flight into a backwards somersault, brought his feet back, and sprang off the suspension bar behind him, propelling himself back onto the engine near its rear, but he landed very unsteadily and fell onto his back. He rose quickly, but the Chimera just watched Edward for any movements in his direction. He must not have been as willing to fight Ed with the bat-winged people nearby.

"How's it going, Al!?" Edward shouted down into the engine room.

"I'm on it!" Alphonse cried from inside the engine car. Numerous seconds later steam detonated backwards out of the engine room, but the train didn't slow.

"What are you doing down there!?" Ed shouted.

The Chimera must have decided to take advantage of how Edward was once again paying less attention to the beast, for he charged on two legs and leapt at Ed. Edward could see the winged figures gliding ahead of the train now, but he kept their presence in mind as he threw himself under the Chimera's leap and pushed up on both hands, attempting to strike the Chimera in the knees before the faster moving beast passed over Edward. The Chimera turned his leap into a somersault, though, moving his legs out of the way of Ed's attack. Ed whirled and cut at the beast before he could finish rising, but the Chimera blocked with a front claw.

Edward lunged low, and the Chimera blocked with his other front claw. Edward jumped over the beast, turned, and swung high, but the Chimera caught the assault in his front claws. Edward pushed against them for a few seconds until the Chimera was pushing back hard, then fell back, hoping the beast would stumble forward with the weight he'd been struggling against gone, and he did, but he turned his stumble into a jump over Edward's head.

Edward back flipped over the beast, slicing down as he came down, but the Chimera pulled back. Edward clenched his teeth and slashed low, and this time the Chimera flipped over Edward to evade.

Edward needed to learn the weaknesses in the Chimera's battling style.

So he moved into a series of alternating high and low slashes at differing heights, leaping or flipping over the beast when the beast blocked low and rolling under the Chimera when the beast jumped or flipped over Ed's attacks himself. The dance took them back along the train cars as Edward looked for weaknesses in the Chimera's fighting style. He was aware Table City was nearing; another, unmoving train was approaching to the right of the train they were on, halted on a section of the bridge surrounded by suspensions, roofed by close together compound beams, and extending over a river on the valley floor; and people wearing civilian clothes were standing at the edges of the bridge and shooting at the fleeing bat winged figures, but Ed kept looking for weaknesses.

Then they reached the other train and started passing it, and Ed's eyes fell upon a familiar male with his black hair in a ponytail, wearing a white jacket and a large striped tie colored different shades of red.

"It's you!" he cried.

"There you are," the Chimera spoke, and disengaged from Edward, then spun and ran further back along the train in the direction of the fugitive. Edward internally kicked himself. Of course. The Chimera was hunting the former prisoner as well. Why hadn't he thought that might be the case?

The former prisoner ran along the stopped train in the Chimera's direction, and the Chimera cried, "Thanks for coming out in the open and greeting me!"

As he did, the prisoner launched a thick purple lightning bolt at the beast, but the Chimera somersaulted onto the unmoving train. The convict countered by jumping onto the moving train and rolling to a halt on the roof.

"It's been a long time," the Chimera went on as he dropped to all fours beneath another thick purple bolt.

The beast leapt back onto the moving train. "I've been awaiting this."

The fugitive fired another purple lightning bolt as the Chimera said this, but the beast dropped to all fours again and charged the convict, then dropped lower as the prior prisoner launched a fourth lightning bolt. The fugitive fired a fifth at the beast's feet, but he leapt over the convict onto the car behind him and whirled.

Now that he had an opening to effectively attack with a transmutation, Ed clapped his hands and slapped the roof of the train, and in crackling blue, a series of two large, thick, curved metal bars with fists on their inner ends rose up out of the sides of the train car he was on and closed together, working their way swiftly down this car and then the cars behind it towards the beast and the fugitive. The Chimera jumped back from the bars and to his left and Edward shifted the direction they grew in to close on the beast, altered the boxes into hands that weren't fisted, and sped them up, but the Chimera leapt up from the bars as they attempted to catch him and onto them, higher and higher as the bars reached higher and higher, then into the air toward the left edge of the train roof relative to him. However, Edward could tell his leap was off-balance even before the convict blew the bars closing in on him apart with purple lightning, and the Chimera skidded down the side of the train out of sight.

He didn't reappear on the roof, and Ed hoped he was thinking about his odds.

Edward faced the convict alchemist. "Where did you learn transmutation circles like that!?" he cried.

The fugitive smiled and launched another purple lightning bolt, and Ed fell back, somersaulting onto the platform below him at the back of the car. Edward glanced backwards to see how close they were to Table City before climbing back up, and cursed.

They were almost at the station.

He saw the wolf Chimera land on the mostly barren plateau to the left of the railway bridge, but there was no time to feel relief he had one less problem to worry about. He clapped his hands and touched the platform, separating the connectors attaching the car and the engine in front of him from the rest of the train in blue light, then jumped across to the ladder on the coal car and ascended it. He heard the fugitive leap onto the ladder of the coal car as Edward jumped down into the engine room, but he kept most of his attention on the more pressing concern.

"Are you getting anywhere, Al!?" Edward questioned his brother, who was pulling futilely on a lever.

"The breaks aren't working!" Alphonse cried. "I don't know what to do!"

"Leave it to me!" Ed responded, knelt, and clapped once more. He touched the floor of the engine room, blue energies shone, and sent a series of metal fists plunging into the railway at what he hoped was effective intervals, beginning at the front of the engine and moving backwards. The drag of the fists slowed the engine and the coal car, but as Ed looked through the right front window relative to him and saw the station drawing closer and people running away from the rails, he saw they weren't slowing fast enough.

"We're going to hit!" Al yelled, looking through the other front window.

Edward cursed and knelt again, slapping the floor and sending out more coursing blue. He raised the foremost metal fist, tilting the engine up and a little to the side. As Ed had hoped, the train lost its hold on the rails and turned, slowing more swiftly. They were now in the train station, and it crashed into one side of the train platform and moved along it, tearing it up, then turned further, slowing further, until its left side relative to Edward was diagonally facing the end of the railway section of the station.

Ed braced his hands against the wall of the engine room, as did Alphonse.

But there was no need to.

Now not moving in anything close to a straight line, the train slowed further as it went on turning, mowed down the barriers at the end of the railways, and when it smashed into the station platform, it was moving slowly enough it came to a halt without doing anything more to Ed and Al than cause them to stagger.

Edward waited numerous seconds to be sure no part of the engine room was going to collapse, catch on fire, or erupt. Then he sighed in relief, pushed himself into a straighter standing position, and looked at his brother. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I think so," Al spoke back uncertainly, and pushed himself off the wall too. Then he gasped. "Brother, he's getting away again!"

Edward spun in the direction Al was looking, and saw the convict running out the open entranceways to the station, through people at the back of a crowd.

"Not this time!" Ed retorted, and jumped onto the platform, sprinting after him and weaving through the crowd. Alphonse followed, and they emerged into stone front grounds to see a group of soldiers moving into position and opening fire at the winged figures, who were now gliding over the city.

"The Black Bats are heading from Table City Station!" a soldier cried. "They're on the move, heading southwest!"

"The 'Black Bats!?'" Alphonse shouted to the soldier. "Do you know who they are!?"

The soldier glanced at him, then cried, "The person who appears to be the escaped prisoner from Central is moving in that direction as well!"

Edward looked southwest, to see the convict standing on the uppermost portion of a high, curving, narrow walkway that rose into the air above the buildings on this level of the city and then sloped down. Shards of icicles were flying from his right hand in the direction of the soldiers.

"Look out!" Al shouted, running to the right to evade the icicles with Ed behind him, but it was too late. The icicles caught a number of the soldiers, sending them falling to the ground or onto their posteriors, wounded or dead.

Ed clenched his teeth and ran up to one of the sitting soldiers, seeing the former prisoner running along the walkway and keeping a part of his attention on the male in case he launched another assault.

"What did you do with the illegal immigrants you arrested?" he questioned. "Where are they being held?"

"In the western dome," the soldier responded, pointing in the direction they needed to go. "Past the central commons."

"Got it!" Al cried.

.

Ed ran along a cobblestone street with a drop to the right, Alphonse behind him. Before them and to their right was a huge circular building with a green dome for a roof.

As Edward looked on, thick purple lightning bolts crackled over a section of the wall protruding out from the rest of the building and with a curved top, stretching from its base into the bottom of its roof. More thick purple lightning crackled over another protruding section, and then another.

Ed cursed, aware what was about to take place, and knelt, touching the cobblestones and transmuting a cannon out of it, pointed between Table City's regular buildings and the dome. He knew he couldn't hit the convict from here, but announcing they were in pursuit had a small chance of causing the convict to stop transmuting for a few seconds to think about how to deal with Ed and Al.

A thick purple bolt tore into the cannonball and it detonated.

As this was happening, the three raised sections fell outwards, forming bridges over a wide moat around the dome. People emerged onto the bridges, and shortly afterwards, soldiers started firing down out of windows in the green dome, but more icicles flew through the air at a number of the windows, though, and the firing stopped in those locations.

Ed resumed running along the street, and he and Alphonse descended into the midst of the regular buildings and reached the area before the dome at the top of a staircase to see multiple people running past the bottom of the staircase, undoubtedly escaping immigrants.

Thick lightning coursed into another protruding section of the wall, one with large icicles and pieces of ice embedded in the wall and windows, and ran over it.

"Over there!" Alphonse cried as this protrusion, too, fell outwards.

Edward turned to see the fugitive standing on a walkway in front of a drop. "That bastard!" Ed spoke. "He's freeing the inmates!"

As he spoke this, he ran down the staircase, Alphonse behind him, and multiple seconds later had reached the opening before the moat. He didn't stop, however, and ran across the opening, intending to reach the makeshift bridge and stand guard there in case the escaped convict endeavored to cross it.

He heard the fugitive make a wordless noise, however, and a number of seconds later a familiar girl, her hair orange, her eyes green, her jacket yellow, her shirt white, and her pants purple, walked to the edge of the second highest floor of the dome and crouched.

"It's the girl from the newspaper!" Al cried.

"Julia Crichton!" Edward spoke.

A soldier was approaching her from behind and reaching out his arm to her, but Julia rose from her crouch and threw herself downwards and inwards. Ed's jaw dropped at the insanity of the maneuver and he gasped, and Alphonse did as well, but the girl flipped through the air and landed amidst two other people. Then she climbed down the edge of that floor, dangled from it, and dropped down before three people on the floor below her. After that, she crouched and leapt down onto the back portion of the makeshift bridge, then ran across it. An amount of time later she ran past Edward and Alphonse.

"Whoa!" Al cried, and Edward shared his feelings. This was no regular girl.

The girl the fugitive was connected to was outside of the dome now, so Edward turned and sprinted in the direction of the walkways the fugitive was on, but one of the winged figures glided down beside her, shouting in a female voice, "Julia!"

The winged figure dropped a metal foothold at the bottom of connecting cables into the cobblestones, and Julia ran onto it, crying, "Miranda!"

Miranda rose back into the air, carrying Julia with her, and Edward halted. "Now what's going on?" he asked. "Is she with them?"

Miranda ascended into the air, Julia holding tightly to the cable above the foothold, but the escaped convict raced across a bridge and then along a walkway, following. Ed sighed and gave chase another time. This was getting old.

"I've had enough of you!" the escaped fugitive cried, ice gathering around his right hand, and then it shot out in the form of spinning crescent discs of ice. Miranda moved her body and wings around them, but they boomeranged back at her. Miranda wove through them, but one caught the cable and pulled it back, twisting it, and Julia lost her grip on it and went spinning through the air. She seized a high portion of a golden construct with numerous bells, that surrounded a tower with three other similar structures, on the outer side of the construct, near where a curving segment was attached to the main portion of the construct at the end of a curve of its own, but it cracked and bent to the side, where it swayed unsteadily.

"And I've had enough of you, you fugitive punk!" Edward shouted down to the former prisoner as he and Al ran along a rising walkway comprised of pipes behind and above the male, one constructed similarly to the walkway the former prisoner had taken earlier and that descended on the other side of the tower.

"Will you please mind your own business!?" the convict shouted in frustration, turning and sending a thick purple bolt at the walkway in front of them, ripping through it and sending the walkway falling down. Ed fell to his knees, but the more athletic Al jumped over Edward's head onto the portion of the walkway beyond the hole, landing unsteadily and falling onto his front. Another thick lightning bolt tore another hole through the walkway behind Ed, sending it falling down further and landing on a roof.

Edward ran onto the roof. "Al, you save the girl!" he cried as his brother rose.

"All right!" Al responded, resuming his run along the walkway.

Ed raced across the roof, and Miranda glided around the structure Julia was holding onto, shooting a cable into the tower and then turning inwards to pull it around Julia's back and pull the broken construct back towards its original position. However, more crescent ice discs severed the cable near Julia, and the construct fell back outwards. Purple shone in the fugitive's right hand and ice appeared in it, then exploded into a large structure of ice that attached to the cobblestones in front of him and rushed at Alphonse. Al leapt forward over it and it shifted after him as Alphonse ran behind the tower, attempting to catch him, and failed to move quickly enough to strike Al. The former prisoner, though, launched another structure. Al leapt over this one, and slid down the walkway to evade a third, falling onto his posterior, but a fourth was transmuted before him and Alphonse slid onto it.

"Al!" Edward shouted. He clapped his hands and fell to the walkway he was on, sliding along it and slapping them to the walkway, and a large stone wall rose out of it, severing the ice structure the former convict was running up in Al's direction and cutting the escaped prisoner off from Edward's brother.

But Ed knew that wouldn't stop the male for long.

The fugitive put his left hand against the stone wall.

.

Alphonse got to his feet on the icicle structure, and looked up.

If he'd had a human body, he would have had trouble breathing.

The structure Julia was holding onto was breaking, and tilting further to the side, Julia crying out wordlessly.

"Julia!" Miranda cried, and shot out the cable with the foothold, wrapping it around the upper portion of the top curving metal segment, but another crescent ice disc severed it where it was attached to Miranda's right wing, and the construct continued to fall, Julia crying out wordlessly louder.

Al ran back along the ice construct to intercept her descent, ignoring the thoughts that told him that he was too hopelessly pathetic to save anyone, that Brother shouldn't be counting on him, that he was too infantile to make a difference like this, that he was a cowardly brat and he'd end up murdering Julia by trying to rescue her.

 _No!_ He would not fail Julia as he'd failed Nina!

He caught Julia in his arms when she lost her grip on the golden segment, and when the ice construct broke beneath him and fell downwards, he was ready. He leapt forward off it as it struck the wall of the lowest level of Table City, smashing a hole into it and its front separating from the rest, and landed on the hill outside the wall, sliding down it. He flipped forward out of the slide and ran down the hill, slowing his momentum as best as he could until he was too close to the edge of the plateau, and then flipped onto his side and stuck his right hand into the dirt, using the friction of the larger surface area of his body and the force of his grip to slow them further. They passed over the rim of the plateau, but when Al grabbed a metal segment shaped like a rail belonging to a railing-like metal structure multiple feet below the rim, one that had probably been built for situations like this, it wrenched free of the segments it was attached to to the right relative to facing the plateau and warped, but it didn't pull free of the rest of the structure.

The front of the ice construct slid over them and fell towards the river on the valley floor.

His left arm was holding Julia against his back, and he could see Julia was gripping the armor's collar near his head. He said, "Not there. Hold onto my shoulders."

Julia probably wondered why, but did as Al requested. Then his left arm shifted repeatedly, and Julia cried out wordlessly twice. She must have looked around.

The rail segment he was holding warped further down, and pulled partially free of the segment connecting it to the cliff side to Al's left, and Julia cried out and shifted her grip, but because she wasn't holding onto his collar, she didn't grab his helmet.

However, Al could feel his grip slipping.

 _Please,_ no!

He adjusted his grip desperately, but it was all in vain.

He lost his hold, and Julia cried out loudly as they fell towards the valley floor.

There was just one thing he could do now.

Al flipped backwards so he was falling upside down, and spoke, "Climb onto my legs." The convict jumped over the rim of the plateau and fell after them headfirst, but Alphonse would have to hope the escaped prisoner wanted Julia alive and he hadn't been trying to kill her, just to keep Miranda away from her, or Julia would be able to escape him herself somehow if this succeeded. Beyond denial consumed him utterly and his mind beyond screamed at him to do more, but he knew he couldn't. He knew he would have retched violently if he'd had a body at his awareness he was probably going to leave Brother alone by doing this, but he couldn't let Julia die. "I'll kick you into the air as we hit the ground. Combining taking the brunt of the impact with my armor with that might be enough to keep you alive."

" _Al!_ " Alphonse could hear Brother scream in indefinable terror, leaning out over a balcony above, and Al indefinably wished he could call back a goodbye, but he didn't know how long it would take to convince Julia to do this, so there wasn't time.

"I can do that," Alphonse continued. "Don't ask how, but I won't die upon impact. I won't lie to you. I will probably die, because the upper portion of the back of my torso will be badly damaged if I hit head first, and the medium that keeps me alive is there. But I'll have a brief period of time during which I can kick you into the air."

Julia stopped crying out. "If that's true," she replied, and he could hear the terror she was repressing in her voice. This genuinely wasn't an ordinary girl, "I can't do that. Land feet first. Save yourself."

"No," Al replied. "It doesn't matter what happens to m–"

Then the escaped prisoner brought his right hand before him, purple glowed, and he waved it, a spray of ice pieces spreading out in coils below him. Al twisted and held Julia close with both arms, but the coils grew into a trail of enlarging snow that wound down around them and struck the valley floor, then twirled around, expanding outwards and upwards into a large, high hill of snow.

If Alphonse had been standing, his legs would have given out.

He wouldn't have to leave Brother. Julia would live.

He moved his legs forward so he was falling back first and shifted Julia so he was holding her against his chest, and then they collided with the snow, the impact jolting Al's helmet loose, and plunged deep into the snow.

He stopped moving.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"It… It feels like it," Julia responded.

Al heard the sound of two thick electric bolts rising into the air, and the snow under him and around him shifted. The electric bolts were blowing the snow away. After a number of seconds there was nothing but the garbage he'd seen when he'd fallen close enough to the valley floor under him, and the only snow left was in a ring taller than an average human around them.

The prior prisoner stood before him.

Alphonse got to his feet quickly, turning as he did to put his body between Julia and the fugitive. The convict had saved her, so he clearly didn't want her dead, but Al had no reason to believe the fugitive wouldn't harm her non-lethally. But a sheet of ice emerged from the fugitive's right hand and spread under Alphonse's feet, and he slipped and fell onto his back. As he did, the former prisoner ran forwards and yanked Julia out of his hands.

Al was aware he would have paled if he had a body.

Julia kicked and struggled and pushed at the prior prisoner's chest, and Al heard the sound of descending figures alighting on the detritus in a rough arc behind them. He glanced back to see they were the Black Bats, and they were aiming their guns at the escaped convict.

"Let me go!" Julia cried.

"Calm down, Julia," the convict spoke. "I'm here to save you."

Julia stopped struggling and looked up at him. "Who are you?" she asked.

"You'll forgive us if we don't believe that," the woman Julia had called Miranda said where she stood at the front center of the rough arc. "Return the girl to us and put your hands in the air, and don't try to transmute. We will open fire if we see any alchemic light."

"What is wrong with you?" the escaped fugitive asked back. "Do you people have a death wish?"

"You're in no position to be questioning that," Miranda replied. "You've landed in the Valley of Milos, and this valley belongs to us. Strangers aren't welcome here. Now, return the girl to us."

Numerous figures rose up from behind the snow ring surrounding them, aiming rifles at the fugitive.

One of them, a male gasped. "The person in the armor! He's hollow!"

"It's a monster!" a second male cried, and Alphonse suppressed the urge to cringe. He knew he was still human now, even with a body of armor, but hearing that still hurt deeply.

"He's not a monster," the escaped convict interjected. "He's dabbled in God's domain."

"That's what he is," a third male spoke. "His soul is bonded to the armor."

"I also saw the other alchemist with you has been fitted with automail limbs," the former prisoner said. No one was making a move to break the stand off, so Alphonse ran over to his helmet, knelt, and put it on. "Your bodies were taken from you, to the other side."

Alphonse wasn't surprised the fugitive knew about the Portal of Truth, due to the mysteries surrounding him, but he was slightly surprised to hear whatever had happened to their bodies referred to as 'being taken to the other side.' That was a new way of putting it. Al walked back in the direction of Julia and the previous prisoner.

"And how would you know about that place?" Miranda questioned.

"Because of my parents," the fugitive responded, putting Julia down. She stood up, but Alphonse moved to her side and looked at the former convict warily. "They were alchemic researchers. There's no doubt about it. Those two boys have seen the Doorway of Truth."

Miranda gasped. "It can't be."

The fugitive held up his right palm. "I inherited this transmutation circle from my father." He held out his left palm. "And the other circle I inherited from my mother." He smiled. "My name is Ashleigh Crichton."

Julia gasped, and her eyes widened. "Ashleigh? Is it really you, my older brother?"

For the first time in weeks, Al wished he had a body so he could smile a real smile. He'd known it was possible, but after what he'd learned about reality from the Freezer it had been extremely difficult to believe things like this could happen in a reality so remorseless. Tragedies as horrible as the vanishing of a family member could never be reversed even if that family member had survived. Families who had been torn apart by loss could never reunite. The survivor or survivors could never learn his or her or their loved one or loved ones were even still alive even if the survivor or survivors _couldn't_ reunite with the loved one or loved ones lost. The lost family member or members remained lost, the person or people dear to him or her or them never to know the warmth and comfort of that kinsperson's or those kin's presence, the lost one or ones never to know the warmth and comfort of home and kin again.

Alphonse was truly glad to have proof he'd been wrong.

"I'm so sorry, Julia," Ashleigh said. "For leaving you by yourself for so long. Will you be able to forgive me one day?"

Julia's eyes brimmed with tears.

.

Edward rested against the balcony railing, holding himself up with his hands, his heart still beating rapidly even though it was clear from the snow hill Al had survived, and he knew Al could take care of himself if how the former prisoner had saved Julia didn't mean he wasn't truly their enemy.

That had been the most inexpressibly terrifying experience of his life since Al had been erased from reality by the Portal of Truth.

Ed was consumed completely by far more fury than he'd felt when the Fϋhrer had revealed he'd taken Winry prisoner.

How could Al have tried to sacrifice himself? Ed knew what Al had been thinking; at that time, he'd had no other options, and Julia's safety had been the most important thing. But Edward still didn't understand how Al could have done it. Now that he'd experienced his brother's attempt to sacrifice himself, he knew how stupid it was. It had brought back all the terror that wasn't terror and loss from that night transcending an infinite nightmare. Furthermore, if Alphonse had succeeded, Edward knew those feelings would have remained for the rest of his life. How could Al have been idiotic enough to be willing to inflict torture as horrific surmounting words as that on _anyone_ , temporarily or for the rest of that person's life, even in a situation as dire as the one he and Julia had been in?

Had Al known he was doing that, and would do that, and believed he could make no other choice, or had he been unaware he was causing that to happen, and would cause it?

It didn't matter. Whether he'd known or hadn't, Edward was going to give his brother a piece of his mind when he got down there.

"You are the Fullmetal Alchemist, am I right?" a voice questioned from behind him, and Edward turned to see a group of Amestrian soldiers standing on the walkway behind the steps leading down from the balcony, a male with short black hair, save for a curl stretching down over the right side of his brow, and two parts of a small, thin mustache to the sides of the area below his nose, at their head. Behind him and to his left stood a taller male with Sunglasses and short-cropped blonde hair. "Colonel Mustang informed me you would be coming here. Nice to meet you," he took his curl in his left second finger and twirled it, "I'm Major Peter Soyuz, the officer in charge of this city."

Ed ran and jumped down the stairs and walked up to the Major. "Is there a path or road that leads into the valley?" he asked without preamble.

"Are you planning to cross the border to Creta?" Soyuz spoke back.

Edward blinked. "That valley is Creta?"

Soyuz didn't answer his inquiry. "Death Canyon is a blighted wasteland where no one is invited to set foot," he informed Ed.

"So that's the name of the valley surrounding the balloon," Edward said.

The Major sneered. "Death Canyon is a wretched place," he spoke. "Nothing but a pile of rubbish, disease, and criminals."

Edward didn't care for Soyuz's attitude, but Ed asked him another question. The Major probably wasn't going to be any help descending to Death Canyon, so Edward questioned something else. "Who were the people with the bat wings who landed in there?"

"Members of a terrorist organization plotting to overthrow Table City," the Major responded. "To answer your question, they call themselves the Black Bats."

"I already heard their name," Edward replied, but at least he'd learned something this time. "I have another question. Were you the one who put out the false information about the immigrants being escorted here to lure the Black Bats into a trap on the railway bridge and at the western dome?"

"Of course I did," the Major replied. He scowled. "And we were so close to rounding them all up. I never imagined an alchemist would escape from a prison and come here looking for that girl. Do you know anything about why my plan went awry?"

"Regretfully, no," Ed spoke back, and Soyuz scowled at him. Weeks ago, Edward would have taken pleasure in it, but now he didn't care. "I'd call Colonel Mustang in Central about it. He's looking into it."

That was probably all Edward was going to get from Soyuz, so he turned, clapped his hands, and knelt and touched the walkway with his hands. Blue currents ran over the balcony, and it was transmuted into walkway leading up to a large pulley with a cable Ed estimated would be long enough to take him to the floor of Death Canyon. He stood up and, with his back to the Major, said, "That'll be all. I no longer require your presence."

He didn't truly care about Soyuz' attitude, but there was no reason not to upset him.

He didn't look back to see if Soyuz bristled, and walked to the foothold at the bottom of the cable, placing his automail foot in it, pushing on it with his foot, and pulling on the cable, testing if it would hold his weight. It held firm.

"Be sure to be careful down there," Soyuz advised him stiffly. "And watch out for the Cretan secret police, as well."

"I'll give them your best," Edward replied, and jumped off the edge of the walkway. The cable lowered him towards the bottom of Death Canyon, and towards Al.

.

Alphonse walked down the cobblestone street by the wooden shantytown amidst four of the Black Bats, his hands in a wooden binder. His happiness Julia had been reunited with her brother was now mixed with sickness at the quality of life these people led. In multiple ways they were as bad off as the Ishvalans! Now that he was aware of the role the garbage across the river must play in their lives, and he was seeing the shantytown, he was surprised the Black Bats and other valley dwellers had given Ashleigh a chance to surrender and had taken Al prisoner. If he'd known of the lives they led before he'd met them, he'd have believed they'd shoot strangers on sight.

But not all victims of oppression were as blinded by hate as Scar. Alphonse shouldn't have been surprised.

Julia and Ashleigh were following him close behind, Julia in front of Ashleigh and near the two Black Bats behind Al, probably to ensure none of the Black Bats attacked him.

"What's going on?" a little boy garbed in light and dark blue rags, at the side of a woman in partially light purple rags and holding onto her dark purple glove. She was obviously his mother. "Why is Julia escorting that armored person? He or she is scary!"

Alphonse suppressed the urge to cringe.

"I don't know," the woman responded, squeezing her son's hand. "But don't go closer. He may be an Amestrian."

"He's huge!" a male remarked.

"That doesn't matter," another male interjected happily. "Julia's back!"

So Julia was well known among these people. Al wasn't surprised. He saw her smile as she looked at the people around her.

"That's true," a woman acquiesced. "All that matters is Julia is safe."

"Welcome home, Julia!" a teenage girl cried.

"We're so glad the Black Bats succeeded!" a male shouted.

"It's wonderful to see you all right!" a woman cried.

The adults and adolescents and children gathered around Julia. "I was so afraid for you!" a woman shouted.

"Are you hurt anywhere at all?" an adolescent girl asked.

Julia halted and continued to look around, now at the people gathered around her. The Black Bats and Ashleigh stopped too, as did Alphonse. "I'm scraped," Julia spoke, "But it doesn't bother me. I'm just happy to be back home. Thanks so much for being so concerned about me."

Children gathered closer around Julia, and she knelt, her smile turning soft, and put her right hand on the head of a little girl with short brown hair and stroked it. "I'm so sorry I made you all so worried." As she talked, she placed her other hand on the right shoulder of a little boy with short unkempt brown hair and a circular gray knitted hat. "But everything's fine now."

Again Alphonse wished he could smile. Julia's kindness toward the children and her clear love for all of them touched his heart. He'd seen people be kind to children before, but the way Julia smiled, and spoke, and held herself, and touched the children showed a depth of compassion and caring and more he'd rarely seen in his life. Despite how he was helpless to say or do anything for Brother, in spite of how Winry and Granny were hostages, despite how Winry might have lost one or more limbs or been starved or tortured or even stripped of her human body, Al felt genuinely happy. He hoped he'd have the chance to get to know Julia better while they were here.

A brown-haired girl with her hair in braids, wearing brown, dark pink, and orange rags with a knit orange circlet with a blue oval at the center of the front had joined the other children while Julia was talking, and questioned, "Are you going to teach us at school again now?"

"I can't," Julia sounded very sorry. "I'm sorry. But I'll be able to before that much time has passed. I'll come teach you again in a matter of days. I promise."

She stood and looked at the Black Bats. "I'll be here for longer. There's no reason to wait on my account."

The Black Bats resumed moving, and Alphonse went along with them, but Julia looked at him as he did, and Al kept his head turned back and his gaze on Julia as he did even when she turned her face away from him.

.

The Flame Alchemist looked down at an old map in a large book he was holding open on his desk.

"Mount Poros and the Hill of Milos," Roy said. "A long time ago, this area was the holy land of the Milosians."

He turned the page and read the words on the following page, that described the tribes of hunters and gatherers who would later settle in the shadow of Mount Poros and establish a city-state there.

One of the double doors to his office opened, and Frank Archer walked in, holding a piece of paper. He closed the door behind him and walked up to Roy's desk. Roy put the book down.

"Yes?" he questioned cordially.

"We have two problems," the other officer told him. "One is that an express train out of Central got into a wreck at Table City Station."

Roy clenched his teeth. He'd hoped from Fullmetal's story of how he'd dealt with Cornello the younger State Alchemist was learning quickly, but he'd known such hopes were probably unrealistic. Nevertheless, it was aggravating to hear Fullmetal had caused another mess with his recklessness.

"And the other?" Roy asked.

Archer held out the picture, and it showed Julia Crichton's face. "We've received an official request from Creta to turn Miss Crichton over to them," he spoke back. "It turns out Miss Crichton isn't just an illegal immigrant, but a criminal on their wanted list as well."

Making this situation even more multi-faceted. Wonderful.

The Flame Alchemist sighed. "I'll call Soyuz. Do you want to remain here while I speak with him?"

"As the Elrics are in Table City," Archer responded, "I'd prefer to, yes."

.

Al sat in the small cave branching off from the tunnel with numerous bats on its ceiling and flying within it as the male human Black Bat with short brown hair slid the bar closed on the lock to his cell.

"This is quite a hideout," Alphonse commented as the Black Bat turned and walked to the other side of the tunnel, and Julia walked toward the bars from where she'd been standing behind and to the side of the Black Bat. "I'm impressed."

Julia knelt before the bars, and spoke as she did. "I'm so sorry. This is a terrible way to repay you for your help."

"Don't worry about me," Al reassured her. He didn't care he was in a cell and couldn't break out without causing trouble. He'd been through much worse, and that Julia had survived and reunited with her brother was what mattered. "I'm glad you got to see your brother again."

"I don't get it," the Black Bat spoke from where he was facing Alphonse at the other side of the tunnel. "What does Miranda want with this monster anyway?"

Alphonse suppressed the urge to cringe another time.

"Don't say that, Tony!" Julia cried, and then turned back to Alphonse. "Please forgive his atrocious manners. Many of the people here have no true awareness of God's domain." As she talked, Tony turned his back on them.

"It's all right," Alphonse responded, and he was being honest. He didn't like it, but he was used to it by now. "It's nothing new."

"Um…" Julia trailed off, then talked again. "Mister Al…" she trailed off once more.

"It's Alphonse," Al told her. "Alphonse Elric."

"Alphonse Elric?" Julia sounded surprised. "As in, the Elric brothers from Amestris?"

Tony turned to look at them. "What?" he questioned.

"You've heard of us?" Alphonse asked.

"Of course I've heard of you," Julia responded. "You're famous for studying all types of alchemy all over Amestris. Or is that wrong?"

"It's correct," Al spoke back. "But that's unimportant. What do you want to talk to me about?"

She looked down, and then looked up, her eyes gaining a determination Alphonse hadn't seen in anyone else but Brother and Winry before. Alphonse had known Julia was unique, but this still surprised him. He hadn't believed she was _this_ extraordinary.

"Please," she spoke. "Tell me something. Is what Ashleigh said true? Did you violate the flow of the One and the All and perform human transmutation?"

Alphonse experienced a surge of worry. There was no sure reason to; there were countless harmless motives she could have for questioning about human transmutation. But there were also numerous reasons so harmful the pain they could result in couldn't be fathomed. Just the possibility Julia was asking for one of these reasons was enough to scare him.

"Why do you want to know about that?" Alphonse asked in return.

"My parents were researching a specific kind of alchemy," Julia responded. "One based on mythology. According to their studies, the person who opens the Doorway of Truth will be able to freely control the power of the land." Alphonse's heart plummeted. This probably meant Julia _did_ want to open the Portal. "I was told this is a form of alchemy from the ancient Milosian myths."

Al did his best to keep his emotions out of his voice. "What myths were these?"

"It is said there is a giant force flowing through the ground," Julia replied. "The ancients call it magma. According to my alchemic research, this force can be harnessed as energy, granting its wielder great power.

"That's why I'm asking you. If it's true you and your brother have performed human transmutation, then you must have seen the Doorway of Truth. I want to know everything you're aware of about it."

Al looked her in the eyes. "We didn't try human transmutation for the reasons you're thinking," he told her. "We wanted to see our mother again.

"We wanted to resurrect the dead, and so unknowingly, we opened the Portal of Truth. But the Portal is an essential part of the flow of nature, and it's not supposed to be disturbed. Because we opened it, it destroyed Brother's left leg and removed me from reality. I'm just here now because Brother opened the Portal again with his right arm and reclaimed my soul. We didn't give up our bodies by choice, to wield alchemic secrets from the other side of the Portal. We lost them because that is the reward for dabbling in God's domain." It felt so different now to talk about God.

Julia's eyes went wide, and she knelt stunned. Beyond Julia, Tony was looking at Al with his mouth open and a mixture of emotions, including surprise, in his eyes.

"Please," Alphonse pleaded with her. He wished desperately he'd thought to ask Brother whether he'd reached Rose by proving Cornello was an alchemist with the Chimera's transmutation markings, or another way. "Don't open the Portal. If you do, you'll end up like us."

But Julia leaned forward slightly. "Our goal is to get our homeland back." Al had seen that coming. "We need a great power to restore and defend it."

She looked down and to the side, however, and Al knew he would have had trouble breathing. Had he gotten through to her?

She looked back at him. "I'm grateful for what you've said to me," she spoke with a smile. "Thank you. I'll get you out of there as soon as I can." She rose. "Hold on in there," she said as she got up.

She walked off down the tunnel, and Alphonse looked at her go, a mixture of a new source of terror and hope he'd reached her inside of him.

.

Ed descended down past a closed metal structure with a semicircular front, and the lower front of the construct slid up into the upper front. Garbage fell out of the opening in multiple streams, revealing the structure as the end of a garbage chute.

"Give me a break," he spoke, irritation in his voice, to no one. "Dumping your garbage in your neighbor's country?"

The military was an upstanding institution in Table City? Yeah, right.

He went back to waiting for the pulley cable to reach the valley floor. As he got close enough, he could see the side of the river closest to him, the side he was descending towards, was covered with garbage, and a wooden shantytown lay on the other side of the river.

He scowled. This was more than a typical case of military corruption. This was comparable to what the military had done in Ishval. The Black Bats had _very_ good reasons for being a terrorist organization, if they even were terrorists. When he'd found out whether or not the alchemy the escaped prisoner had studied could restore their bodies to them, he was going to remove Major Soyuz from office. And if he couldn't, he was going to talk to Mustang about how Soyuz was running things when he got back to Central. This area might not have a role in the Homunculi's and the government's plans, so the Colonel might be able to do something to improve the lives of the people here.

The cable stopped descending a small amount of feet above a garbage pile, and Edward jumped down into the middle of a cloud of swarming flies. He waved them away and looked out over a snow pile in the shape of a ring to people with packs on their back, a number of them standing, a number of them kneeling on the garbage, three standing on one of the wooden bridges crossing the river. Edward scowled. They'd probably been searching through the garbage for food.

He had to do something to assist them. He needed to find Alphonse, but Al could survive by himself. This was more important with that taken into account.

"Don't be afraid of me!" he called to the figures. But they moved away from him. "I'm not with the bastards running Table City!"

He'd known that would happen, but he sighed. He knelt and walked toward the snow to transmute it and the detritus beneath it into bottles of clean water, but then the cable retracted back up the cliff.

Edward snorted. That had been a big mistake. Since he was in Creta, he could press charges against Soyuz for willfully stranding a State Alchemist in enemy territory.

He resumed walking to the snow, reached it, and clapped his hands. He touched the snow, blue washed over it and the detritus around and beneath it, and they moved together and altered into clear water in a ring of stacked bottles.

"I've got clean water for you!" he yelled to the retreating people, and a small number of them halted, but most continued along the garbage and across the bridges.

The garbage nearer to the snow rose, however, and a male in upper garments of differing shades of blue with a circular brown hat of differing brown shades, light gray pants, brown boots, and blue eyes climbed up out of it, pointing a rifle at him. Ed repressed the urge to tense, knowing that meant others were watching him, but he forced himself to relax his stance. If he looked at all combat ready it would cause alarm. In addition, that the person hiding in the garbage hadn't shot Edward on sight was a good sign; it might mean at least a small amount of people here weren't as unreasonable as Scar was, and Ed had a better chance of getting through to them.

"If this is poison," the hatted person warned him, "You'll be shot."

"Just take a drink," Ed rejoined.

The figure approached the bottles, and picked one up and looked at it closely. Then he uncapped it and cautiously took a swallow.

His eyes widened. "That's the best tasting water I've had in years," he said. He looked at Edward suspiciously. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing," Ed responded. "I do want to see whoever's in charge of the Black Bats, but that can wait until I've transmuted the lot of you edible food and drinkable liquid."

"Oh, really?" the person asked. "How do I know this isn't a ruse to gain our trust so I'll take you to see her?"

"You saw what I can do," Edward replied. "I could have taken you hostage and forced you to take me to your leader, but I didn't. Why go to the trouble of tricking you when I don't need to use subterfuge?"

The person's eyes lost most of his suspicion. "You have a point. Okay. We'll give you a chance."

Edward sighed deeply in relief. He'd reached them, at least to an extent.

He turned to the retreating and halted people and yelled, "The boy's probably honest! You can come back!"

The people moved in Edward's direction, and others climbed up from beneath the garbage, pointing rifles at him and gazing at him warily. Edward felt slightly lighter, and found a real smile on his face. In spite of what had happened to Winry and what might be happening to her and everything else, for the first time, he was truly undoing one of the military's horrible abuses of power, even if just in a small way and temporarily. He wasn't getting anywhere meaningful in his efforts against the Fϋhrer and the one called Father, but, despite his terrible ineptness, he was achieving _something_ that was helping others who were among the worst victims of the military.

It was very good to know that.

"My name is Pedro," the male who had taken the drink introduced himself. "It's good to meet you."

.

"The fugitive went into the valley?" Roy questioned, looking down at a picture of the person who had named himself Melvin Voyager in his prison clothes. On his desk lay the picture of Miss Crichton Archer had brought him and the newspaper article where he'd first seen Julia Crichton. The picture had been cut out and lay diagonally and partially on top of the picture of Miss Crichton's face.

"Yes, sir," Soyuz replied. "He fell into it in pursuit of the female criminal from Creta."

"Are you certain the girl who fell into the valley was Julia Crichton?" Roy asked.

"Her description matches that of the girl in the photo," Soyuz responded.

Roy snarled. Now this was turning into another international incident to add to the list of those Amestris was already dealing with. How could he have been stupid enough to hope Fullmetal was learning swiftly? Or _was_ Fullmetal learning? This was the biggest mess he'd caused yet!

"What a severe fiasco," Roy commented. "Do you think the Cretans will believe this?"

"Why wouldn't they, sir?" Soyuz asked back. "It's the truth?"

"Where is Fullmetal now?" Roy questioned.

"He descended to the Cretan valley floor himself," Soyuz replied. "I'm sure he wanted to go to his brother's assistance."

"This is absurd!" Roy cried, and, as continuing to talk to Soyuz was now pointless, he slammed the phone onto its receiver.

Now, as he'd believed would still be necessary, he once again needed to pick up the pieces. The nation couldn't afford to become embroiled in any further intentional incidents at a time like this if that could be prevented.

That was when Lieutenant Hawkeye opened one of the doors to his office and walked in. When she saw the look on his face, she gave her version of an amused smile and spoke, "Let me guess. Has Fullmetal not learned how to resolve incidents with military efficiency as well as you'd hoped?"

"You could say that," Roy sighed. "For what it's worth, welcome back, Lieutenant, but your stay may be a short one." He looked at Archer. "Is it all right with you if the Lieutenant and I deploy to Table City to clean up this mess? We're the best choice, for the same reasons we were the best choice to work with Fullmetal on this case here."

Archer smiled. "Go ahead. So long as you have no objections to me handpicking a squad of soldiers to accompany you two in addition to myself."

Roy clenched his teeth. "I won't object."

.

Edward followed Pedro over roofs of the shantytown that were attached to each other until they walked off the last roof onto a stone pathway carved out of the western cliff side that led up to a series of stairs, connecting pathways and staircases, and cave openings. The arrangement caused Edward to think of an apartment complex.

Edward heard the sound of a whistle reverberating off the cliffs.

Pedro stopped and stiffened.

Edward halted as well. "What's going on?"

"It's the Cretan secret police," Pedro responded. "But they won't find us here."

He turned to face Edward.

"This is isolated enough we can talk in a degree of privacy," Pedro said. "Anyone who thinks I'm being too kind by talking to you shouldn't bother us here.

"First of all, thank you again for all the food and drink you transmuted for us. And once more, I'm sorry for doubting you. It's been around four-and-a-half years since the last time people came to the valley who were willing to help us, but that doesn't justify my words and actions. You had our best interests in mind, and I pointed a weapon at you and distrusted you. That was wrong of me."

"It's just fine," Ed reassured him. "After what Amestris has done to you, I'd be at least as distrustful of strangers. Probably more."

"Not just Amestris," Pedro spoke back. "Creta has oppressed us as well."

Edward frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "If you're willing to tell me, what have you suffered under Creta's hands?"

Pedro scowled. "A lot more than we've suffered under Amestris'. But I'll leave the full tale to Miranda, the leader of the Black Bats." So she led the Black Bats. "I will tell you, however, we're not Cretans. This area, including the Hill of Milos you Amestrians call Table City and Mount Poros on the western side of the valley, is the holy land where we Milosians have lived for around three thousand years."

Ed was impressed. He hadn't heard of a culture with a history that stretched that far back.

"Centuries ago," Pedro went on, "Creta annexed Milos by force. They stole our sacred hill and drove us down into the valley, where we lived under their yoke. Then Amestris arrived, pledging we could trust them to rescue us from Creta's discrimination. But it was a lie. The Amestrian military turned the valley into a battleground, and when they captured our sacred hill, they kept it for themselves and forced us to remain here." He clenched his hands. "My parents died in the fighting."

Edward didn't know what to say. The words 'I'm sorry,' felt trite.

"And even now, we're still being oppressed by Creta," he pointed up ahead to a funnel-shaped building sticking out over the cliff side on the west side of the valley, at the top of a structure of pipes and beams, with other structures behind it. "Creta is building a big geothermal power station there. There's a volcano inside they're going to capture energy from. Our people are being forced to work like slaves for next to nothing in wages, and a lot of them have gotten hurt by cave-ins when digging the tunnels and caverns for the station."

Ed grimaced. "Creta is on one side, Amestris is on the other, and the valley is caught in the middle. That's atrocious. Even if it was just Amestris, you'd be suffering under among the worst type of discrimination I know of, but that you're caught between the oppression of two countries… I was even more accurate than I knew when I compared this to Ishval."

"Ishval?" Pedro questioned. "Or do I want to know?"

"You don't," Edward responded. "Amestris virtually wiped their race from the country to further its alchemic research."

Pedro scowled. "Then Amestris truly is no different from Creta. Creta oppressed us to further their own alchemic research."

Ed jolted, countless terrifying possibilities spreading before him.

But Creta couldn't be up to the same thing the one called Father was. If they were, Greed would have known.

Wouldn't he have?

"What research?" Edward asked.

"I'll let Miranda tell you about that part," Pedro responded. "I've given you a general concept of our situation. That should suffice for now."

"It does," Ed spoke. "Thanks.

"Are you fighting for Milos' freedom?"

"That's correct," Pedro replied. "We want to be an independent country again, and we also want to take our holy land back. We're going to reestablish ourselves as Milos, and reclaim our holy hill and Mount Poros."

"If I have anything to say about it," Ed said, "You won't need to fight as hard for that much longer. If I can't arrest the jerk running the Hill of Milos, I know someone in the military you genuinely _can_ trust. His name is Colonel Mustang. He'll remove Soyuz from power, and do his best to end the discrimination."

Pedro's expression became wary, but he responded, "I hope you're right."

"Who were the people who came to the valley approximately four-and-a-half years ago?" Edward questioned curiously.

"Julia was one of them," Pedro answered. "If you're a friend of the person in the armor, you already know her." Edward nodded. "Creta disposed of her in the valley after her parents were murdered when she was twelve years old." Ed winced. "Creta had been supporting their alchemic research, but after her parents died and Julia wasn't able to tell them anything useful about the murders, Creta had no reason to keep providing for her as a Cretan citizen with the same freedoms the ethnic majority in their nation has, so they tossed her back in here. We raised her, so became dedicated to our cause.

"The other was a male named Alan. He took up residence here shortly after she did. He was a fugitive from Creta wanted for refusing to obey orders to shoot civilians from another ethnic minority Creta has oppressed, and he sought refuge here. When he learned of our plight, he swore to aid us in gaining independence, and he's helped us since."

"Why was Julia arrested?" Edward asked. "Did she ascend the cliff to the top of your hill to bring back pieces of a better life?"

"That's correct," Pedro responded. "That girl is a warrior. It takes more than cliffs to scare her."

"We should resume moving." Pedro turned back around and walked towards the staircase. "We don't need to talk any more now that you have a general concept."

"Suits me," Ed responded.

He followed Pedro at a walk up staircases and switchbacks until Ed heard a gunshot from the cliff rising up to Table City. He looked in that direction to see clouds of dust and other small materials rising up from around the base of the cliff.

"Now what's happening?" Edward questioned, stopping.

"Someone attempted to climb the cliff to the top of the holy hill," Pedro halted and replied. "That person was shot by Amestris. If you climb up the cliff even slightly, Amestris counts it as crossing the border illegally."

Edward's stomach heaved.

Pedro resumed moving again, and Edward followed, but before they reached the staircase up ahead, Ed heard the sound of large, fast moving feet and growling. He spun to see a familiar wolf Chimera crest the staircase behind them on all fours and race in their direction.

Edward clapped and transmuted a sword from his automail arm in a wash of blue, then threw himself off the side of the cliff to give Pedro room to fire and flung himself up at the beast's right, kicking at him. The Chimera bounded over the bullets, twirled to the side to block Ed's kick with a claw, and then landed on all fours and barreled into Pedro, ramming a claw through his chest.

Reality froze.

Pedro fell to the walkway, blood pooling from the gaping hole in his chest, and the Chimera raced on and up the staircase.

"Glory…" Pedro gasped, "be… to Milos…"

Then he lay still.

Time resumed moving, and Edward shook violently where he stood, his stomach heaving and clenching. He fisted his hands so tightly the nails of his left hand drew blood from his left palm through his glove. It had happened again. Someone had died right in front of him, and he hadn't been able to do _anything_ to stop it from taking place. He'd genuinely helped people suffering under the Homunculi and the Fϋhrer, but he'd still been helpless to prevent someone from being murdered.

He hadn't accomplished anything at all by providing water and food to the people of Milos.

But this was no time to stand here thinking about that, or Pedro's death. If he didn't move, Pedro might not be the only person who the Chimera killed.

Ed sprinted after the beast.

.

Al looked over at Tony when he spoke, "What?"

Tony was rising from the rock he was sitting on. "What's going on?" he asked, and ran down the tunnel in the opposite direction from the one Alphonse had arrived in, his rifle in a ready position.

There was nothing for it. Al didn't want to frighten anyone here by being free, but if one or more people here were in danger, if _Julia_ was in danger, he couldn't sit in this cell and do nothing. Immeasurably more so after what had happened to Nina because he'd done nothing.

He wrenched his hands to the side, breaking the binder, and, wishing once more he could transmute by clapping like his Brother, removed a piece of chalk from the white cloth around his waist. He drew a transmutation circle on the floor before the bars, pressed his hands to it, and the bars to the right of the door relative to the direction he was facing and the door itself shifted to the side within seconds, creating a hole big enough for him to fit through.

Al raced out of the hole and in the direction Tony had run, and after time passed, he heard gunshots and voices. He picked up his pace and turned in the direction the voices and shots had come from when he neared the end of the tunnel and saw Ashleigh, now garbed in a white shirt and a purple coat and pants, run out of another tunnel across one that ran between the one Al was in and the one Ashleigh had emerged from. He slid on his feet into the tunnel between the two, and saw Brother standing behind the wolf Chimera in a large cavern, his automail blade in existence.

"Brother!" Alphonse cried.

His brother looked at Alphonse with an expression that held too many emotions to identify them all, but relief and fury and a fathomless anguish Al hadn't seen since the night he'd awoken as a suit of armor were among them, and Alphonse cringed and knew he would have thrown up violently if he'd had a body and, as he had the time now, wouldn't have stopped for minutes and would have believed he'd never stop.

"Thank goodness," Brother's voice was indecipherable, "You're okay."

"I'd never have imagined you'd come–"

A badly aimed shot fired past the Chimera from somewhere above. More shots were fired, but the beast ran on two legs across the floor of the large cavern in front of, and wove between, the shifting angles the bullets were fired at. Al sprinted into the cavern to see the shots were being fired by four Milosians in clothes of varying shades of brown and tan hats standing or genuflecting in tunnels branching off the cavern higher up the cavern wall. The Chimera leapt into the air, kicking into a large hanging chunk of stone and sending pieces of it at the tunnel with three Milosians in it, knocking two of them into the tunnel wall and floor and sending the third falling down the wall to his left for cover. The Milosian in the center dropped his rifle, but Julia, now wearing a primarily dark blue robe that extended down past her knees, white pants, and a knitted red circlet with three yellow rounded shapes in a design at the center of the front, ran forwards and caught it.

Julia opened fire at the beast, who was now holding onto the wall of the cavern near the roof, but he climbed backwards along the wall and roof on all fours, evading the bullets until he reached a stone ledge with a lantern, and he kicked it into pieces that sailed at Julia along with the pieces of the lantern and its torch.

Al ran to shield her with his body, but Ashleigh got there first.

Crying, "Julia!" he ran in front of her and blasted purple currents of differing sizes from his left hand, destroying the pieces or sending them flying back. The pieces of the torch from the lantern hit the floor and flames expanded over it, but Ashleigh launched a wave of snow from his right hand, extinguishing them.

Then the beast raced down the wall diagonally on all four legs and hurled himself at Julia, knocking her back and sending the rifle flying out of her hands as he landed, then spinning and holding his right arm before her.

"Julia!" Alphonse shouted, knowing his breath would have stopped if he'd had a body, and started to shake violently.

"If you'd just come quietly none of these people would get hurt," the Chimera spoke.

Al walked carefully, unthreateningly, to Ashleigh's side, but he had no idea what he could do to make a difference in this situation. Agony consumed him wholly. This couldn't be happening!

If any of them made a wrong move, Julia would be killed, but the only way to save her was for Ashleigh to go with the Chimera, and if he did, Julia would be torn from her brother again. And this time Ashleigh might truly die. She'd regained happiness so wonderful it couldn't be put into speech, and now, a matter of hours later, she was either going to lose it once more, perhaps forever, or her life.

Alphonse couldn't let that happen, but as he'd been with Winry and Granny, he was absolutely powerless. He'd delayed Julia from falling to her death long enough for Ashleigh to save her, but he'd still failed her. He'd saved her just for this to happen to her.

No. Please. Julia was unique. Not her as well.

Again he experienced hatred of his helplessness, even more potent than before.

He looked desperately over the portion of the cavern he could see while trying his best not to appear like he was doing it, hoping there was something in the cavern he could use to save Julia or a section of terrain he could use to his advantage, but he saw nothing.

"But that doesn't matter to you, does it?" the Chimera questioned. "They aren't your people anyway, are they?"

Al wondered what that meant, but it wasn't important now.

Ashleigh raised his left hand, and the transmutation circle on it shone purple, but Al didn't know why he had. There was nothing he could do.

If he hadn't seen the Colonel do it when they'd met Scar, Al knew he would have missed it, but because he'd beheld an eye signal once, he saw it when Ashleigh's eyes moved to the side, and when the eyes of a male figure with short brown hair, blue eyes, and a red bandanna standing in a tunnel in the wall of the cavern that lay to the beast's left with two other Milosians moved in answer. Silently, the person took aim.

But the beast must have seen the figure move, for he pulled back, evading the shot and throwing a chunk of rock at the male. The male's second bullet went wild, striking a large structure of stone extending from the wall near the ceiling over the Chimera's head. It came loose from the wall and then fell, crashing onto the Chimera's right arm, right shoulder, and head as he raised his arms and left paw to catch it.

"Al!" Alphonse's brother shouted, clapping his hands and slapping them to the floor. Blue crackled over it, and stone walls rose into the air in front of Alphonse.

Al was moving almost before the walls had begun to rise, and jumped down into the stone crack that split open below Julia, catching her as she fell into it.

"Alphonse!" Julia cried.

"Just 'Al' is okay!" he responded as he ran along the bottom of the crack away from the Chimera.

The beast threw the structure away, but then more running blue spread around him and a ring of inward curving stone pillars rose up around him. The beast ripped through the ones in front of him with a slash of his left claw as Ashleigh fired purple lightning, and the lightning struck the pillars, shattering them. The Chimera flipped backward from the rubble and then jumped into the air, racing along the wall of the cavern on all fours and then jumping from atop one rising rock section in the cavern to a ledge on another rising stone structure and then to the top of that stone section, dodging above and keeping ahead of more purple currents. Keeping ahead of purple currents, he leapt from the top of that rising stone section and seized a stalactite, swung off of it and spun towards another rock ledge, and jumped off it through the air towards Alphonse, who had by now carried Julia out of the crack.

But this time, Brother was ready. He clapped his hands, slapped them to the floor, blue shone, and four inward curving bars of stone rose caught the Chimera in mid-leap. Ashleigh had slid in front of the beast as the bars had risen, and with the Chimera trapped, he fired another purple bolt. The Chimera roared and spasmed as purple electricity coursed over him and through him, and grabbed the two bars nearest his claws, attempting to break them.

But it was too late. He was too consumed by pain to break them, and then his claws retracted and his head and arms and front paws fell down. Green played over his corpse and he shifted back into human form, sliding down within the bars to the floor as he did, where he lay still, charred all over.

Al sighed heavily, and had to keep himself from falling to his knees. "Thank goodness," he said, and let Julia go. She alighted on the floor.

A thin male in clothes of differing shades of brown with a yellow bandanna and a rifle ran over near Ashleigh, who had walked back from the Chimera. "What the heck is that thing!?" he questioned.

A woman with short black hair and red eyes, wearing a primarily dark purple suit with a short sword sheathed at her waist walked over to Tony. "It looks like a wolf Chimera to me," she spoke in Miranda's voice.

Three more primarily brown-garbed males with rifles ran up near them as Ashleigh responded. "Yeah. He's in league with the ones who killed my parents."

"Thank goodness you know eye signals," Al said to Ashleigh.

"Eye signals?" Julia asked. She turned to Ashleigh. "What's he talking about, Ashleigh?"

"I signaled Alan to fire with my eyes when the Chimera was holding you captive," Ashleigh responded. "He was one of my friends when we lived in this valley with our parents. We often pretended to go on mock adventures, and one of the things we did on our fake adventures was develop eye signals as one of our means of outwitting imaginary creatures."

For an unknown reason, Brother walked between Al and Julia and faced Ashleigh. "You're lying," he spoke.

Ashleigh glared. "That's rather presumptuous of you," he replied. "What justification do you have accusing me of that?"

"Another Milosian told me Alan is from Creta," Al's brother spoke back, "And he arrived in this valley approximately four-and-a-half years ago."

Al gasped at what Brother's words meant, and Julia's eyes flew wide and she began shaking very violently. Al's heart ached for her, and he wished he could cry.

No.

Oh, no.

He put his hand on Julia's shoulder, but he knew there was no way it could be any comfort.

All the other Milosians in the tunnels and the cavern save Miranda had pointed their rifles at the person who had claimed to be Ashleigh and Alan, if that was his name, and Miranda was now glaring at the supposed Ashleigh.

"You are not Ashleigh Crichton," Brother spoke. "Tell us who you really are."

The male impersonating Ashleigh said nothing for a few seconds.

"Don't move or transmute," Miranda said. "If you do any of those things, we will shoot."

The supposed Ashleigh's right palm glowed purple, and a snow cloud washed throughout the chamber.

Alphonse grabbed Julia and spun, putting his back to the supposed Ashleigh and holding Julia against him. Brother clapped, blue glowed, and the area of the floor they were on rose up out of the snow cloud, but then a very thick sheet of ice with countless icicles emerging like a forest from its surface fanned out over the floor of the cavern around all the rising stone structures and spread out over the walls, blocking all the exits. Al heard cries of pain from two of the Milosians on the floor, the icicles no doubt having injured or killed them. Then an arc of ice carried the supposed Ashleigh up onto the ledge of the second rising stone section the Chimera had jumped to.

The male impersonating Ashleigh laughed. "But I _am_ your brother, Julia. This is his face, save for the eyes. I peeled it off of him," Julia gasped in horror, tears cascaded down her face, and her shaking grew beyond violent. Al wished with all his heart he could hold her as close and tightly as he could risk without hurting her with his armor body, but he barely knew her, so that might cause her to feel uncomfortable. So he couldn't, "And fused it with my own with your parents' lightning. _That's_ how I got these scars on my face."

Shots were fired from within the snow cloud, the Milosians who could still fire clearly aiming for the supposed Ashleigh from the sound of his voice, but the Milosians were unable to aim accurately without being able to see him and the three bullets passed harmlessly by the black-haired male. The supposed Ashleigh, though, could see, and launched a trinity of thick purple currents at where the shots had come from. Three male voices cried out in anguish.

"No!" Julia cried. "I knew he might be dead, but I'd hoped… No… _You killed Brother!_ "

Al would have to risk making Julia uncomfortable. He had to do something. He began running one hand through her hair.

He didn't know what he couldn't believe; Julia's apparent reunion had turned out to be the revelation Ashleigh was truly dead, or he'd been stupid enough to believe Julia had reunited with Ashleigh. But it didn't matter. The unforgiving Truth of reality had claimed its latest victim, and Alphonse was once more witnessing someone's life being destroyed.

And he knew for certain now he could do nothing.

He hated himself for being so helpless, and this time, he didn't feel guilty about it or ashamed. He _should_ feel this way.

 _I'm so sorry, Julia. I'm so sorry._

"I also killed your parents," Ashleigh's impersonator spoke. "It wasn't wolf Chimeras. However, I didn't lie about the Cretan military being behind it. I _was_ with the Cretan military when I murdered them. I was the Security Chief assigned to protect you and your family. Perhaps you remember me."

Julia cried for a second, then said, "Atlas…"

"Good," Atlas responded. "You do remember me. Alan's Sergeant Raul. I ordered him to watch over you until you were old enough I could use you, since I knew the Cretan military would be looking for me. The Chimera I killed _is_ a soldier in the Cretan military." The Cretan military knew how to transmute part human Chimeras too? But after hearing Dolcetto's worldview, Alphonse wasn't extremely sickened. "Creta wants to arrest me for my crimes, and to salvage what remains of Doctor Crichton's research from my brain."

"But you hid from them by sneaking into Amestris," Brother put in, "And hiding in an Amestrian prison. Not bad for a petty crook."

"But why!?" Julia cried. "Why did you betray us!?"

The Cretan alchemist laughed. "Isn't it obvious by now? I wanted your parents' alchemy research, and especially one of the things they were researching. The Crimson Star."

"Which is?" Al's brother questioned.

"You Amestrian alchemists call it the Philosopher's Stone," Atlas replied, and though Alphonse couldn't see Brother's face, he knew his brother was clenching his teeth. That meant this might have turned out to be another wild goose chase. They didn't know that for sure, because they didn't know how central the Philosopher's Stone was to Julia's parents' research, but it was now a larger possibility than when they'd set out here this hadn't been a lead in the direction of restoring their bodies.

But that wasn't important now. What was important was a rare, invaluable person had had her life destroyed.

"Don't ask me what that is," Atlas continued. "It's none of your concern.

"I decided to try my hand at the alchemy I'd learned, so in order to do that, I enlisted in the Cretan military. But I grew bored with my duties, the conflicts, and everything else. Then I met your parents, and later I overheard them talking. And from that time forward, I knew what I wanted in life. I'll transmute a Crimson Star, and use its power to exalt myself above everyone else in this world. As master of the power that can sever the laws of reality, and of the planet, my life will be fulfilling."

"A petty ambition suitable of a petty crook," Alphonse's brother commented. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're not the only unscrupulous alchemist interested in the Philosopher's Stone. In addition, one of the other bastards I know of who is is a _lot_ better than you. If you try to conquer the planet with the Stone, you'll run afoul of him, and he'll wash you from the face of the world as the dirt you are."

"Not if I get my hands on the Star before he does," Atlas responded. "That's what I want Julia for, although I'm not stupid enough to tell you the specifics. Hand her over now, or I'll make you wish you lost everything to the void when you tried human transmutation."

Brother yawned. "Are you done with your second-rate threats yet? Good."

Atlas snorted. "Don't underestimate Doctor Crichton's research. He was a genius." He pointed his left palm at Alphonse's brother, and it glowed purple.

Then Miranda's sword came spinning up out of the snow cloud towards Atlas from below the rising stone structure he was on. Atlas blasted a thick purple bolt at it, and as he did, Brother went on the assault.

Al's brother clapped and touched the rim of the rock construct they were on, and a stone chain rocketed from it in coursing blue to wrap around one of the icicles on one of the walls and break it off, swinging it at Atlas. Atlas launched another thick purple current at it, but Brother was still transmuting, and shortened the length of the chain. The purple current sailed over it, and as Atlas lowered his left palm, Brother threw the icicle at it. Another, thinner purple bolt struck it, but Brother still hadn't ended his transmutation, and the chain extended forward, coiling around the bolt.

Atlas threw himself to the side, evading the chain and firing the third purple bolt at it, breaking it into shards, but Brother clapped his hands again and slammed them to the rim of the construct, and this time three stone chains ripped out of it in crackling blue.

On the opposite side of the rising rock structure from the ledge, Al could see Miranda, making as little noise as possible, climbing towards the top of the structure with a rifle she'd taken from one of the other Milosians in her left hand.

Atlas sidestepped the chains and purple shone on his right palm, then a spray of icicles shot in the direction of the platform. Brother abandoned his attack to send a thick stone wall up in front of the icicles in blue, and the wall surged forward on an extending floor like a battering ram, meeting the icicles and breaking them as they broke the wall.

A thick purple bolt sailed through the wall, but Brother tumbled forward off the top of the platform and seized its edges. Blue ran over the platform and the three stone chains moved again, swinging at Atlas. Atlas fired a group of thick purple currents at them, but Edward retracted one of the chains, morphed it into a walkway, and sent it flying to Miranda's side.

Miranda threw herself onto it and opened fire.

Atlas had figured out what Alphonse's brother had in mind, though, and flattened himself against the side of the rising stone construct and launched a purple bolt at the walkway, severing it from the platform Al and Brother were on and sending Miranda falling. Then a vertical sheet of ice flew at Brother, large enough it extended up higher than the rim of the platform so Al's brother couldn't dodge it by moving back onto the top of his structure.

So Brother flung himself backwards at it, whirling in midair and clapping his hands, and slapping them against the sheet of ice. Blue ran over it and it morphed into water, but Atlas had anticipated that and fired a two thick purple bolts at it.

But Brother had anticipated too, and the water morphed further into steam. The bolts passed harmlessly around Brother, and as they did Brother clapped and the sword on his automail arm shifted into a metal cable with a hook at the end. His left hand still touching his automail arm, Alphonse's brother threw it into the ledge, and then shortened the cable, pulling him towards Atlas.

Atlas threw a spray of sharp-edged ice chunks at Brother, but Brother increased the speed at which the cable was shortening to a rate that would take him to the structure so fast he would have hurt himself colliding with it if he didn't have automail limbs, and he reached the ledge with the ice pieces passing behind him, halting his movement by bringing his automail leg before him. Atlas didn't fire ice or lightning, correctly assuming Al's brother wasn't going to ascend to the ledge and make himself vulnerable to a transmutation.

Brother clapped his hands where he hung from the hook, but Atlas didn't take the bait and run forward to fire down at Brother before he could transmute. Atlas stayed where he was, and when rock bars with rounded ends shot up out of the ledge, he blew them to fragments with two regular-sized purple bolts.

But Alphonse's brother didn't take the opportunity to ascend to the ledge. He clapped his hands and touched the rock wall, and a crack running from Brother's position to Atlas' split open the ledge. Atlas flipped to the side as it formed, and then Brother grabbed the left corner of the crack and swung onto the ledge near the Cretan alchemist. Atlas fired a thick purple current down while he was still in midair, but Al's brother rolled under it and leapt low at Atlas, tackling him to the floor of the ledge. Brother swung his hook into Atlas' left palm, tearing up the flesh of the palm and ruining his lightning transmutation circle.

Atlas cursed and aimed his right palm at Brother, and Al's brother hurled himself off Atlas to the side to evade a group of icicles, but he kicked at Atlas' chin with his automail foot as he moved through the air, stunning the Cretan alchemist. Brother landed on his knees, rolled backwards, and came up out of the roll in a spin, swinging his hook at Atlas' right palm.

Without warning, Brother's automail arm went stiff at the elbow, and the hook struck the floor of the ledge past Atlas' palm.

Brother recovered quickly, springing on his left hand into the air and avoiding a horizontal array of icicles, but Atlas rose and seized Alphonse's brother's automail forearm while he was still in midair and swung him down on his back and the back of his head into the ledge hard.

" _Brother!_ " Al screamed in terror that surmounted the name.

The Cretan alchemist pointed his right palm down at the stunned Brother, and purple glowed in it, but then the Cretan alchemist must have seen something, for he jerked backwards. The sound of a bullet firing echoed through the cavern, and Atlas cried out in pain as it struck him in the right wrist.

Miranda had climbed up the icicles on the wall to Al's left and was now standing on two of them, the rifle she'd taken aimed at Atlas. She shifted her aim and shot another bullet, but Atlas was hurling himself down into the snow cloud. Multiple seconds later, an area of the surface of ice behind Alphonse and to his left parted into a hole, and Atlas raced through it into a tunnel and out of sight.

Al knew he would have fallen to his knees if he wasn't holding Julia.

He removed the arm holding Julia from her back, but for a number of seconds, he went on stroking Julia's hair.

Then he spoke softly, "I need to remove the ice from the cavern. Do you want to come with me?"

Julia shuddered violently and pulled away from him, and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and a tear-streaked face filled with so much torment Al wished he could retch like Brother had when they'd murdered Nina and at the Rockbells'. However, she rubbed her eyes and her expression became set through her tears and the agony in it, and her shaking started to subside.

"I'll slow you down making sure I don't slip or fall on an icicle," she said, voice pained so much Al knew it didn't begin to fathom what she was experiencing, but sure. "I'll stay here."

Alphonse wished he could smile at her to show her how proud of her he was for being so strong, and jumped off the platform into the ice cloud and onto the ice surface, his steel legs breaking icicles. He walked carefully around the cavern, drawing transmutation circles and converting the ice to steam in running blue, revealing the rock floor and the other tunnels, as well as four dead Milosians in brown bleeding onto the floor. Al cringed.

When he uncovered the tunnel Sergeant Raul had been in, he saw the Milosian who had been with him leaning against the side of the tunnel opposite Raul, holding a bloodied chest, and Raul was on the tunnel floor near the opposite wall, unconscious.

Then he uncovered another tunnel in a wall in a wash of blue and rising steam, and another brown-garbed Milosian soldier wearing a bandanna who had been behind it cried, "There are two more monsters coming!" and pointed to his left.

Al gasped, and ran over to where he could hear the steps of Brother's automail leg through the snow cloud, heading across the floor to the platform Julia was on.

"Take positions!" Miranda shouted from where Alphonse could hear her running along the floor. "Rogan, spread the word to as many people as you can not to attack the Chimeras!"

Brother snarled, and Alphonse sympathized. A Chimera soldier had almost caused a train to crash, and if Atlas knew how to transmute the Philosopher's Stone and the Cretan government learned the secret from him, it could cause catastrophe. But they couldn't attack the Chimeras if the Chimeras didn't strike first when doing so might get one or more Milosians killed.

Al picked his brother, whose automail arm was now its ordinary shape again, up, slung Brother over his shoulders, and climbed up the stone structure, but Julia had dropped into the snow cloud herself and Al could hear her running in the direction of a floor tunnel. By this time, the Milosians in the tunnels had pulled farther back into them and the ones Al could see were aiming into the cavern, Alphonse could hear a Milosian, clearly Rogan, running down a tunnel, and Miranda was climbing up to a tunnel herself. Brother slid off Alphonse's back, and the two of them followed Julia. When they reached her, Al turned and walked before them both.

An unknown amount of time passed, and the snow cloud had partially cleared when two wolf Chimeras plowed through the ice covering one of the tunnels connected to the floor, these ones possessing gray fur where the dead wolf Chimera's fur had been brown, except for on their faces, which had light brown fur. One had a dark green inner mane and another had a red inner mane.

"If you're looking for Atlas," Miranda said, "There's no reason for us to battle."

One of the Chimeras looked at its dead comrade lying on the floor. "Do you think we'll believe that?" the Chimera questioned in a male voice. "Benjamin's corpse is lying in this cavern."

"I apologize," Miranda spoke. "We didn't know who Atlas genuinely was then. We thought he was someone else, and a potential ally. We didn't learn his identity or of the crimes he'd committed in Creta until after Benjamin was dead. But now we know of them, so combat would be pointless. So long as you don't attack any of us and leave as soon as you've arrested Atlas, we won't fight you.

"Disbelieve us if you want to, but the longer you stay here, the better the chances of Atlas getting away another time."

"True," the Chimera responded. "But we'll be watching our backs." He gestured to his fellow, and the two of them took off into the tunnel Atlas had fled down, obviously following his scent.

Al waited a number of seconds after they were gone, and then reentered the cavern and finished transmuting the ice surfaces and icicles into steam in blue currents. When the last of the ice was gone, Miranda climbed down to the floor of the cavern and approached Brother, pointing her rifle at him.

Al suppressed the urge to sigh. He'd been aware it had been going to come to this. Maybe it wouldn't have after they'd saved Julia twice if the Milosians hadn't discovered Ashleigh's true identity; that might have been enough to convince the Milosians Brother and Al weren't the same as the Amestrians who had oppressed them. But because they'd learned Atlas had tricked them, they'd become even warier of strangers.

"I'm thankful for all the help you've given us," Miranda said, "But how do we know we can trust you two any more than we were able to trust Atlas?"

"Al said he was willing to give his life to attempt to save mine when we were falling into the valley," Julia spoke, and Brother's face became expressionless. "He said he'd probably die if he hit head first when trying to save me because the medium keeping him alive is on his upper back. You know what a blood seal is, Miranda. Would you be willing to show her, Al?"

The snow cloud had cleared enough Al was in much less danger of getting his blood seal wet and damaging it if he exposed it to the open, so he lifted off his helmet and bent forward.

Miranda looked inside him, and then nodded. "It's where he said it was. He wasn't lying about sacrificing himself." She looked at Alphonse's brother, and Al replaced his helmet. "All right. I'll give you two the benefit of the doubt."

Now Al sighed, in relief.

She gestured in the direction of the tunnel Atlas and the Chimeras had entered. "We should go to the Requiem Room. There's an underground lake down the route Atlas took to escape between here and the Requiem Room," that was a surprise, but while even after Winry and Granny had been taken prisoner Alphonse would have looked forward to seeing an underground lake, now that another person's life had been shattered, and the life of a person as exceptional as Julia, Alphonse didn't even care about witnessing a sight like that, "So Atlas may head into the lake to throw the Chimeras off his scent and come upon the Requiem Room at the back of the caves past the lake. If we can, I want us to get there first. I don't want him seeing the diagram our alchemists fashioned to locate the Crimson Star."

She looked at Brother. "Can you swim with your automail forearm not working if you're holding onto a log?"

"Yes," Al's brother replied.

"Then let's go," Miranda said. She looked at Julia, and her expression softened. "I'm sorry, Julia. But there's no time to grieve now. We need to try to prevent Atlas from doing further harm."

"I know," Julia responded, her voice possessing no less anguish but causing her to sound as capable of doing what needed to be done as any other Milosian. Alphonse didn't know if he wanted to smile this time or cry. "If Atlas acquires the Star, countless other people will die as my parents and my brother did. We can't let that happen."

"I'll be with you," Al spoke. "Brother and I aren't leaving until we learn if there's a way to get our bodies back here, and until after we've accomplished one other thing." He didn't know how the Milosians would take it if he talked about how they were going to ensure no one here could transmute a Philosopher's Stone. "If you need anything from me, anything at all, feel free to ask."

"I will," Julia replied.

But her words didn't cause Alphonse to feel the most microscopic amount less agonized. It was good to know Julia had accepted his offer of support, and he'd try his hardest to give it to her, but he was fully aware that didn't alter that there was utterly and completely nothing anyone could do to salvage the ruination of her spirit.

.

"You took my brother from me!"-Jon Canmore

GARGOYLES:

HUNTER'S MOON, PART III


	10. The Star of a Greedy Fool

.

 **CHAPTER 10:**

 **THE STAR OF A GREEDY FOOL**

.

The tunnels beyond the underground water source were darker than the cavern the lake had been in, lit just by the same blue-green lichen that had been clinging to the surface of the lake and that now clung to streams flowing in crevices to the right and left of the tunnel floor.

Alphonse was walking as close to Julia's left side as he was willing to risk, wanting to try to avoid causing her discomfort, and he hoped he was succeeding. He had his right hand open so she knew she could reach over and clasp it any time, but she hadn't. Whether that was because it would have made her uncomfortable or she didn't want to rely on him that much, he didn't know, and he didn't care. He cared about being there if she needed him.

They reached another split in the tunnels, one the crevice to the left crossed to continue on at the left side of the right tunnel. A boulder was laid over the crevice to serve as a bridge to the left tunnel, and Miranda led them into the right one.

After a time, a red-orange glow showed from up ahead, and then the tunnel widened into a large cavern.

"What is this place?" Brother questioned.

In openings of various sizes in the walls on the sides of the cavern around them and the walls before them, many of which extended back to one or more other tunnels, countless skulls lay in groups, lit by the same blue-green lichen. Five of the openings to the left of the pathway were empty of skulls, and were the source of the red-orange light, though whatever was giving it off, be it lava or torches, was too far back in the openings for Alphonse to see what it was. The crevice at their left ran through the cavern up to a waterfall that spilled from a stream cutting across the path and flowing through an opening in the far walls, and to their right, the stream widened.

"This is a tomb," Julia responded, her voice as agonized as before, and Al's heart ached. "It used to be a thriving city, where hundreds of thousands of Milosians once lived. But that was approximately four hundred years ago. When the Cretans came, they forced our ancestors down to the valley floor in order to acquire the Stone of Immortality for themselves."

Alphonse's brother clenched his teeth. "So the Cretans _did_ seek the Philosopher's Stone as well. Could you please tell us more? How did they intend to obtain it? Or do you know?"

"We know," Miranda spoke. "I'll let you know once we've reached the Requiem Room, if Atlas isn't there. In return, I'd be thankful if you'd tell us everything you know about the Crimson Star. We want it for ourselves, as a means of reestablishing Milos as an independent nation."

Al had been afraid of that. Brother grimaced. "Keep leading the way," he replied.

Miranda gave Brother a look that told them she was aware he hadn't agreed to tell them about the Star, but turned and continued down the path.

.

They entered a roughly round cavern with a thin stream of water flowing along the floor near the wall to their right, relative to facing the back of the cavern, and another thin stream of water flowing along the wall to the same relative left. The cavern was lit by lanterns in the floor surrounding a large model of what must have been a city the Milosians inhabited where Table City now was in the approximate center, and a large circular schematic diagram of the city was on the wall behind it at the opposite end of the cavern, circled by a mural. There were no other entrances to the cavern, and no one else was in it.

Alphonse sighed in relief.

"Good," Miranda said. "Atlas may not have found this place. We don't know he hasn't been here and left before we arrived, or hasn't seen something else that might lead him to the Star's location, but there's a possibility he hasn't come here."

She walked in the direction of the diagram, and the other Milosians with them, including Julia, fanned out around the cavern, a few of the Milosians taking positions on the rocks between the stream to the relative right and the relative right wall. Al followed her, Brother followed him, and the Milosians with rifles aimed them at the entrance while the ones without weapons watched in warily.

"So this is the Requiem Room," his brother spoke.

"Indeed," Miranda responded. "This is the innermost area of our base." She reached the diagram, turned, and faced them. "We call it the Requiem Room because it's a place of repose for the spirits of our people; the spirits of those of us who died when we dug up the valley and those who died in battle."

"The valley was excavated?" Brother questioned. "Was this so Creta could look for the Philosopher's Stone?"

"That's right," Miranda replied. "The valley around the holy land wasn't nearly as deep as it is now generations ago. When our ancestors founded Milos, they set apart the hill upon which Table City rests, what they called the Hill of Milos, as a holy land in order to worship Poros, the mountain of God. At that time, a legend arose that said a Stone of Immortality was buried somewhere around the hill. The stone has another name. The people of Milos call it 'the Crimson Star.'

"Around four hundred years ago, Creta learned of the legend and launched an all-out invasion of Milos. They overran our tiny nation, and spent the next approximately three hundred years extensively scouring the area in search of the Crimson Star. That was how the valley as you see it now was formed.

"They robbed us of our homes, and coerced us to work like slaves, digging deeper and deeper for any sign of the Stars they believed were hidden in what had once been Milos. When their army at last departed unsuccessfully, all that remained of Milos was this poisonous valley and the ruins created by ravaging it. Since then, they have governed us as part of Creta from the western cliffs."

Brother sighed in relief.

Alphonse was confused. "What's there to be relieved about?"

"Pedro told me Creta oppressed the Milosians to further their alchemic research," his brother replied. "I was afraid Creta's research was more dangerous than that search."

Alphonse knew why.

Miranda wasn't done talking. "When Amestris invaded, the Cretans didn't use their own forces to combat the Amestrian military. They drafted the Milosians to battle the Amestrians in their place, and many Milosians were killed in the conflict." Miranda turned and touched the mural. "The names of the Milosians who died during those battles are engraved in this mural." She turned back to face Alphonse and the others, continuing to speak as she did. "Even with the holy land lost, however, Creta compelled us to remain in the valley, as a human shield for the border.

"There are no records of Creta recovering a single Star and deporting it into their nation, so we have no choice but to assume they still lie somewhere in the holy land. Thus, we have devoted much of our alchemical research to discovering the holy land's secret ourselves." Brother clenched his teeth. This _was_ another dead end. "The map within the mural is a schematic diagram created by alchemists as part of our attempts to find the Star."

Julia turned to Al, and the determination he'd seen before was on her face even through its anguish. "I'm going to take your advice about the Doorway of Truth." Alphonse's legs almost buckled. "But that means the only recourse left to us is the Crimson Star. We can't turn away from that as our salvation as well.

"Please, Al. I'm certain the Star possesses its own dangers, but you've got to help us this time. My people hate the Cretans, and our alchemical secrets are the reason Creta drove us into the valley. To the other Milosians, alchemy is something that reminds them of the horrible suffering they've endured." Julia's tone was now angry and resentful as well as anguished. "Alchemical researchers, such as my parents, were despised by most of the rest of our people because of this. That's why we had to emigrate into Creta.

"But shunning a means to carve ourselves a future because of the past won't change anything. If we're going to claw our way out of the valley, Milosian alchemists and the rest of my people have to fight together. We need the greater strength nothing but transmutations can provide us. We need the power of alchemy, and the enduring power of the holy land.

"Please, tell us everything you know this time. We have no other hope but the Star."

Alphonse's non-existent stomach twisted violently. One or more Philosopher's Stones might already exist in the Milosian area, so that meant they had to reveal how to transmute the Stone, or the Milosians might sacrifice souls that might still be living and still as human as he was if they found a Stone. Al still wasn't sure whether that was right or wrong, but at present he doubted it was okay too much to sit back and let other people possibly do it. Telling the Milosians the truth might not change anything, and might make things worse because the Milosians would then know how to create new Philosopher's Stones, but there was a chance it would change things, and a good chance – the Milosians had accepted him and Brother without too much trouble – so they had to take the risk.

But they couldn't do this. Shattering Rose's hopes had been bad enough, and her love had most likely been dead for a good amount of time before they'd destroyed them. Julia had discovered the brother she loved was dead _today_. If they told her the truth about the Stone, in multiple ways they'd hurt her far worse than they'd hurt Rose.

However, as with Liore and Rose, there was no other choice they could make.

Al loathed it. He knew they were no different than Tucker and the one called Father, but that didn't mean he was all right with what that meant. He could _never_ be all right with what that meant.

He could be even less all right with it when they were going to do this to someone like _Julia_.

Alphonse knelt before Julia in case he appeared threatening to her in any way, wanting to try to make this easier for her to accept in at least a slight way, if that was possible, by trying to cause himself to appear less threatening, and to attempt to do something similar for the other Milosians. Then he spoke, "Very well." Julia sighed. "We'll tell you things we know about the Stone, as I didn't about the Portal. But not because it's any safer than the Portal of Truth. We'll tell you because it's _as_ dangerous."

Julia went white, and Al held out his hands to her. She didn't move for a few seconds, and then gripped them tightly. Alphonse knew he wouldn't be able to comfort Julia much, though, and he wasn't just aware of this since he knew she'd taken his hands because he could give her less comfort than the other Milosians and thus she could confront the revelations better herself taking support from him as opposed to another Milosian.

"The ingredients for what you call the Crimson Star are the souls of living humans," Brother revealed to her straight out.

Miranda gasped, and there were varying audible and visual reactions of surprise and shock throughout the cavern. Julia's eyes flew wide, and she began shaking very violently. She gripped Alphonse's hands so hard her knuckles went white, and Al clasped them back tightly, wishing he could draw her anguish out of her by doing so and take it into himself, so she wouldn't have to feel it.

"It's composed of living people?" she asked, horror transcending the name shrinking her voice down to something small and very young.

"Yes," Brother replied. "I was a fool to believe something could exist that breaks Equivalent Exchange and the other laws that govern the world, and is bound by no limits. The Philosopher's Stone is the essence of limits. Finite lives are condensed into a single whole by transmutation, and it's by restricting and spending these limited lives a person can defy the natural order. It's not a philosopher's stone. It's the stone of a greedy fool, stained with blood."

Julia collapsed to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking much harder, tears brimming out from under her closed eyelids and falling down her face. "That can't be... This is the holy land's secret? No… my parents lost their lives working to create the Star… my brother died because they were researching the Star… and they died for this?" Alphonse gripped her hands harder, hating himself for being totally unable to take the barest microgram of her agony away. Why was he an alchemist? "For a catalyst born of slaughter? How can this be the worker of alchemy our scientists spent centuries striving for?"

She pulled her hands out of Al's and buried her face in them. "This can't be true. The Doorway of Truth… the Crimson Star… we can't utilize any of them. What have we been fighting for all this time?"

.

Atlas staggered into the lichen-lit cavern, pressing his right wrist to his side and pressing his left palm to that side beneath his left arm. Once again he cursed himself for a complete idiot.

It hadn't just been his stupidity in not thinking to ask if the Fullmetal Alchemist had heard of Alan before making up a story about him. He was sure of that now. He'd been an idiot not to read up more on the Fullmetal Alchemist in the newspapers in prison. Anyone who could gain a State Alchemist certification at the age of twelve had merited study. He should have learned all he could about the brat long before it was time to take Julia's portion of the Star map. If he had, he would have known how good the bastard was and would have used the unique equations in his circles to transmute with them simultaneously. Or he would never have taken the high ground in the cavern, preventing him from transmuting his boomerang crescents against the boy as effectively as he'd needed to.

He burned with shame. He'd prided himself for almost singlehandedly planning out, adjusting, and executing a plot possessing multiple layers of subterfuge, including two false identities and pretending he wanted to create a nation greater than Creta to gain Sergeant Raul's help. Earlier today, when he'd been surrounded by Milosians virtually in the open with a small chance of living through a battle with them and retaining Julia, he'd adjusted his plan by opening up the possibility he'd work with the Milosians to lure enough of the vain Soyuz' soldiers to the points of the citywide transmutation circle the Star would be transmuted once Atlas completed the circle. He'd thought himself a brilliant military strategist who would have been promoted to the highest rank Creta's military possessed by now if he hadn't deserted.

Yet he hadn't thought to know all his potential enemies.

He didn't know if it had been arrogance, or carelessness, or both, but he was furious with himself for his stupidity as much as he was furious with the Fullmetal Alchemist, his brother, and Miranda for imperiling his efforts this close to success.

He was _not_ going to make a mistake like that again.

Thankfully, he'd learned enough from Doctor Crichton's research he had plenty of options to fall back on to work around the hurdles he'd constructed before himself, so he still had a good chance to adjust his plan again, not make such a mistake, and obtain the Star.

His first step needed to be to learn as much as he could about what the Milosians were going to do now that they knew Ashleigh Crichton wasn't the key they'd been waiting for to reclaim Milos. To that end, he'd hidden in these underground city ruins to lure the Milosians to the Requiem Room and to escape the additional wolf Chimeras he was sure the Cretan military had dispatched to reinforce the one who had found him through robbing them of a scent to follow by swimming across the underground lake. He had no doubt the Chimera he'd killed had signaled Creta Atlas had been located, probably with a compact radio hidden under his tongue.

The Milosian city on the Hill of Milos Creta had covered up with Table City wasn't the sole Milosian city to possess a three-dimensional transmutation circle made up of pipes that could also serve as speaking tubes. The Milosians of yore had attempted to build a transmutation circle for creating the Star in this city as well, and had failed, ending up with a circle that would have unleashed a disastrous rebound. But the pipes in this city still functioned as speaking tubes, and the one in this cavern ended behind the mural and diagram map in the Requiem Room nearby.

Atlas rested his head in the crack in the wall the end of the golden pipe was hidden in and pressed his ear to the tube's opening.

.

Once again, there was nothing Al could say.

And now he was tired of it.

There'd been little he could say to his brother about the reality behind the Philosopher's Stone, about the nationwide transmutation circle, about Ishval, about Nina, about Winry's and Granny's captivity, about the planet's nervous system, about the destruction of Xerxes, and about the other things they'd learned of and had happened. There'd been nothing he could say to Julia about the murders of her family. Now there was nothing he could say to Julia about the revelation her family had died for nothing, and one of the things she'd hoped for most was a substance created by slaughter.

Alphonse knew it was impossible for him to grow up, and he extremely highly doubted there was any limit to the damage his childishness could do, but this was the final straw. He couldn't live with those inabilities, and his helplessness, any longer.

He had to think of the things he knew were out there to say this time.

But what _was_ there to say?

"We've been fighting for a future we're willing to sacrifice our lives for, Julia," a male in garments of differing shades of light blue, with a transmutation circle on the outside of each forearm, short brown hair, a pointed short brown beard, brown eyes, and a scar running from above the left side of his mouth to his chin spoke before Al could think for more than a short time.

"Vatanen," Miranda said, surprised to hear him talk.

"There's no reason to be upset about how the Star is transmuted," Vatanen went on. "If it genuinely is created from human souls, it doesn't matter. Every single one of us is willing to risk our lives to secure our nation's future, and spend them if need be. So what if the Star needs to be fed human souls to be made?" He smiled. "Feed it our souls." Julia started, and looked up at him, and Brother started too. Alphonse's eyes widened in horror, and he began shaking violently. He hadn't been sure they'd be able to dissuade the Milosians from pursuing the Stone, but he hadn't believed he'd hear _this_. "We'd be glad to sacrifice our souls if it means our freedom."

"Are you serious?" Al's brother questioned. "You're saying Julia should spend the lives of her companions?"

"Yes," Vatanen responded. "There are things people are willing to sacrifice their lives in order to obtain, and a future free of oppression and exploitation is one of them." He walked over to Julia and knelt before her. "Forgive me, Julia, for how we treated you and your family when you originally lived here." He closed his eyes in guilt and shame as he spoke these words. "I owe you my sincere apologies." He opened his eyes. "But even so, I have to request this of you… Please, transmute us. Sacrifice us, create a Star, and wield it to reestablish Milos. I know you're a beginner at alchemy, but you're still better than I am. No one else can do it."

Horror consumed Al absolutely at the expression on Julia's face. She appeared horrified at the concept, but she also looked like she believed Vatanen's words might have value. Al gazed at her, transfixed.

Brother glared at Vatanen, then turned back to Julia.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Brother spoke. "He's talking about exploiting other people in order to make your dreams come true. Is that your concept of happiness?"

But Julia reached up and rubbed her eyes, her shaking began subsiding, and Alphonse knew if he had a heart, it would have stopped.

"I understand that," she said, countless emotions in her voice. "But no other path is open to us. You live in a powerful, prosperous nation. You don't spend each day fearing for your death. You don't wake up each morning wondering if this day will be your last. Please, we don't have that luxury!"

"We live in terror of the endless battle waged by two countries for each other's alchemical abilities, territory, and wealth," Miranda interjected. "In order to put an end to this and bring peace and safety to our people, we're going to need to restore the holy land, and to achieve that, we'll need the Star. If you don't want us to use it, I won't ask you for any further information about the Star, but don't try to convince us not to harness it. The salvation of Milos is a cause worth giving up anything for."

"Our lives aren't as different from yours as you think," Brother replied, and Al's eyes widened. He hadn't believed his brother would be willing to reveal anything about the real lives the people of Amestris were living. But now that his brother was discussing it, Alphonse was aware why. The Milosians weren't going to attempt to sacrifice others to transmute the Stone. They were going to attempt to sacrifice their own soldiers, to the last person if need be. Telling the Milosians the truth about Amestris' history and what its leaders intended for it wouldn't cause any greater harm. "We're powerful and prosperous, but that's because the head of our nation wants to use that power and prosperity to exploit its people to transmute a Philosopher's Stone himself."

Julia whirled to look at Brother, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Our power and prosperity hasn't made us safe," Al's brother continued. "It's put us in danger, although most of us don't know it. But Al and I do, and trust us, the Stone hasn't brought us peace. It's brought us numerous wars. Additionally, we _do_ have Stones already," Miranda gasped, "And they've been used to bring about wholesale slaughter in one of those wars." The blood drained from Julia's face. "The lure of the Philosopher's Stone has incited battle and terror, and enabled wholesale murder, and there's a special kind of Stone that can enable an alchemist to do something even worse. It can enable an alchemist to gain the knowledge inside the greatest Gateway of Truth, that doesn't just store a lot of knowledge but that literally stores all the information on every single thing in reality."

Julia looked as if her mind had stopped processing what was going on, and she reached out with one hand and took one of Al's. He squeezed it tightly.

There were words and expressions and sounds of disbelief from the others in the cavern, save for from Miranda, who just looked at Brother, her face a mask.

"You wanted to open a regular Portal of Truth to harness the power of magma," Al addressed Julia. "By learning the secrets behind the supreme Gateway, an alchemist can harness far greater powers, which have the potential to wreck far more devastation. The Philosopher's Stone isn't a means of attaining security. As long as you have one, Milos will be in more danger than it is now."

"Let us know the whole story," Miranda requested, voice betraying nothing of what she felt.

"Have you heard of Xerxes?" Brother asked, and Miranda nodded. "Good. Do you know what a Homunculus is?"

"An artificial human transmuted by alchemy," Miranda responded. "I assume you're going to tell me one was transmuted in Xerxes, created a Crimson Star, and used it to lay waste to the country."

"No," Brother corrected her. "An artificial human was transmuted in Xerxes and created a Philosopher's Stone _by_ laying waste to the nation."

Julia's hand gripped Al's a little tighter, but she still appeared to be having too much trouble processing reality to be genuinely aware of what Al's brother's words meant. There was more audible and visual disbelief, as well as shock, from the other people in the room, including Miranda, whose eyes went wide.

"You can transmute special Stones by deconstructing more souls in a Stone transmutation circle than you need to transmute a regular one," Brother went on. "Further, these special Stones can do things even regular Stones can't. Human transmutation can work on Homunculi," there were more sounds of disbelief from the people in the cavern besides Miranda and Julia, "And the one transmuted from everyone in Xerxes gave the Homunculus who set up the transmutation a literally immortal Stone body."

There was no audible disbelief, surprise, or shock this time, just visual shock, disbelief, and surprise. The Milosians now obviously knew now their belief in what was credible was going to be tested repeatedly before the story was done. Miranda's face was again a mask.

Julia, though, looked no more aware of reality, and Al's heart ached. He squeezed her hand tightly again.

"The Homunculus was born from the Truth inside a flask and wanted to a body he would be free in. But this wasn't enough for him. He wants freedom from _everything_. He also wants to realize an alchemist's greatest dream, and what he believes is the dream of all life forms; full knowledge of the truth, literal Godhood," Vatanen gasped, but he was the sole person to audibly react, and once again Julia and Miranda didn't visibly or audibly react, "And perfection."

"I see where this is going," Miranda interrupted. "He was the one who founded Amestris over three hundred fifty years ago, and he established it as a military state and taught its people alchemy with the end of making the nation prosperous through its use of alchemy, luring countless people to inhabit it. And so he could expand the nation to the size it is today by force. This would provide him with millions of people he could use an underground nationwide circle to transmute an even more exceptional Star from," something of that reached Julia on a deeper level than anything else had since she'd lost the ability to process reality, and though she didn't appear further aware of reality now, she swayed and clasped Al's hand as if it were a life raft. Al shifted to catch her if she fainted and held her hand tighter, "One he would use to become all-knowing. Am I correct this time?"

"Yes," Brother replied, "But there's more to it than that. Blood is needed to power a transmutation circle that transmutes a Stone. He needed a military to massacre uncountable people at the points of his desired transmutation circle. Have you heard of the Ishvalan Civil War?"

"Yes," Miranda spoke back.

"That's the worst example of the massacres he orchestrated so far. He ordered a soldier to shoot an Ishvalan child, provoking the Ishvalans to rebel, and when the Ishvalans had made enough of a nuisance of themselves with their rebellion, the Fϋhrer of Amestris, who answers to the Homunculus, sent in State Alchemists to wage a War of Extermination, two of them with imperfect Philosopher's Stones that could break at any time, on the Ishvalans. Our military inflicted genocide."

Al squeezed Julia's hand tightly.

"He also extended a colossal Stone broken off from the Stone that is his body beneath Amestris," another gasp from Vatanen, nothing from Miranda, Julia clasped Alphonse's hand a little tighter, and visual reactions from the other Milosians, "For two purposes. One was to inhibit the connection we have with the energy that enables us to transmute, tectonic energy, so we can be completely cut off from it if we challenge the leaders of our country. The other is so he can transmute a soul body big enough to pass through the Gateway of Truth; he's spread a greater physical body, made up of another Stone broken off his primary Stone, through his base in Central so the greater physical body can serve as the core of the soul body as well.

"He plans to use the Stone he transmutes from the people within Amestris to imprison the repository of all knowledge in his body. The omniscient Truth is held within the nervous system of the planet itself," Julia held Alphonse's hand a little tighter, and Alphonse once more squeezed it tightly, "A nervous system that takes in every memory of all the Ones within the All, and is thus God." Brother was given a number of skeptical looks by Milosians other than Miranda, Julia, and Vatanen. "And to acquire the ultimate Truth you need to obtain the nervous system. He'll open the Gateway through transmuting energy unleashed on our plane by forcing the previously opened Portals of Truth of five alchemists who have participated in human transmutation to repel each other in this regular dimension. I'm certain that's the true reason the military created a State Alchemist corps in Amestris; they wanted a system for selecting sacrifices.

"If we haven't been able to delay him from shedding blood at one of the unstained points of the circle long enough, we just have until the day of a solar eclipse this forthcoming June to stop him, his Homunculus children, Fϋhrer Bradley, and High Command; to further delay a bloodbath at that point; and to delay bloodshed at the other unstained point. The underground nationwide circle will have been fully constructed by that point, if it hasn't been already. Once it is, and the Homunculus his children call Father carves a crest of blood at two remaining locations, he'll be able to transmute himself into a perfect being when the Sun and the Moon intersect.

"Now do you believe you'll be endangering Milos if you use the Stone to save it, as opposed to making it safe?"

Miranda didn't say anything back for a number of seconds. Then she questioned, face still a mask, "The Hill of Milos is outside of Amestris proper. Is this area within the range of the nationwide transmutation circle?"

"I can't tell you," Alphonse's brother responded. "I don't know what the circle looks like."

Miranda was quiet again for more seconds. Then she spoke, "In that case, we may need the Star even more than we thought we did." Alphonse's heart plummeted into an incredibly deep chasm. "Nothing else may be able to shield us from the effects of the nationwide transmutation circle, and we cannot leave our fate in the hands of foreigners. But even if we didn't need it for that purpose, it wouldn't matter. I see the dangers inherent in wielding the Star, but we don't have the numbers, the terrain, or the resources to retake Milos without it. I thank you for your generosity in attempting to convince us not to use the Star, but we must take the risk. If we don't, we won't have a secure future. We're going to transmute the Star, or find an existing Star, and transmute with it."

Brother sighed. "As that's how you feel, there's no point in continuing this conversation much further. The last things I'll say will be these: I'm going to do my best to replace the current Amestrian government of Table City with one that will treat you properly, and if we're able to depose the Fϋhrer, the new Amestrian government will return your sacred hill to you and negotiate with Creta on your behalf for the return of the rest of your territory. However, I know you have no reason to believe a new government of Table City or Amestris will do any of those things or to want to wait, and I myself can't guarantee negotiations with Creta will be successful, so I won't try to convince you to let us put an end to your suffering. I want you to know we're going to make the effort to, though."

Miranda's face remained a mask the entire time his brother talked about this.

His brother turned to Alphonse. "Let's go, Al."

The Milosians aimed their rifles at them.

That brought Julia back to reality. She released Al and got to her feet, shaking beyond extremely violently, running in front of Al and Brother. "No!" she cried, her voice causing her to sound like she wasn't able to start to wrap her mind around the things she'd recently heard the most infinitesimal bit, but causing her to sound like she was fully aware of reality again. "They helped us and saved me, and Al was willing to give his life for me! We have no reason to believe they can unlock the secret of the holy land any sooner than we can! Please, let them go!"

Miranda was silent for a few seconds, and then gestured to the Milosians to lower their rifles.

Alphonse sighed heavily in relief.

Then he got to his feet and looked at Julia, having no idea what to do. With Atlas as badly wounded as he was, the Milosians could probably keep Julia safe by themselves if he tried to capture her again. In addition, once Alphonse and Brother destroyed whatever transmutation circle the Milosians had constructed to transmute the Philosopher's Stone, there would be no reason to be terrified Julia would kill or imprison anyone. Further, once they did, he'd find her and talk to her, so this wasn't goodbye.

But he couldn't leave her after everything she'd been through since they'd discovered the figure claiming to be Ashleigh wasn't Ashleigh. Her life had been wrecked and turned upside down a number of times over. Al couldn't even begin to imagine how much torture she had to be in.

Julia forced a smile, and Al wanted to cry at how fake it was. "I'll make it," she said. "I have Miranda and my people with me. I'm very thankful to you for all you've spoken and done for me and were willing to do, even more so because I barely know you. In addition, I wish I could spend more time with you to come to know you; you have a caring spirit that's very rare in this world, and I want to know more about you. But I've come this far without…" her voice broke, "Ashleigh… and just with the people of this valley. I can do it again.

"So, please. I won't ask you not to worry about me, because I know you're too kind not to, but I want you to leave me here and continue taking your own path. Maybe mine and yours will intersect one day, but until then, I don't want to hold you back. Knowing I'm not will make things easier for me. If you want to do something for me, please, go."

Since that was how she felt, Al couldn't refuse. He wanted to do something for her so much it was almost a physical thing, and he wanted to cry even more now that he knew he could, even though it would just be something tiny, if even that.

"Okay," he responded. "But when we unlock the secrets of the holy land, I'll find you before we leave. This isn't farewell."

"I know," Julia spoke.

"Be strong," Al said, and then turned and let Brother lead the way out of the Requiem Room.

.

Atlas leaned against the opening of the tube, eyes wide, still in disbelief.

There was something out there that enabled transmutations that could even surpass the Crimson Star, and surpass it so far it made the Crimson Star appear like a firecracker.

Not just that, special Crimson Stars could confer immortality, and he had no doubts obtaining and successfully confining the planet's nervous system did the same thing.

He was no longer furious with himself, or with the Fullmetal Alchemist. His stupidity hadn't severely jeopardized his success at acquiring the ultimate alchemical treasure. It had been a stroke of luck he'd been such an idiot. If he hadn't been, if he'd still been with the Milosians, he might not have been able to seek the planet's nervous system himself without raising suspicion.

He couldn't believe it, but he wasn't so much of an idiot he'd pass up an opportunity like this now that he knew about it. Maybe the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother were lying, but Atlas was going to take that risk.

 _He_ was going to take the planet's nervous system into his body, not a fake facsimile of a natural-born human whose existence was an affront to everything nature represented.

He'd use that to exalt himself above everyone.

He clenched his teeth, though. He knew what his first step had to be, and he didn't care to make it. He'd been willing to endure living as a prisoner in Amestris for over four years, but the concept of turning himself in to the military he despised and living as their prisoner was another thing fully.

He had to do it, however. He knew he was smart and clever, but he wasn't so arrogant he could believe he'd be able to outwit an entire group of conspirators who had been manipulating a whole nation for over three-and-a-half centuries by himself. He'd need help if he was going to obtain the planet's nervous system, and he wasn't going to get it unless he pretended to have seen the error of his ways, returned to the Cretan military, and established a large network of contacts among it.

He was certain he'd be pardoned within a matter of weeks. He'd have to tell whatever officer was in charge of Milos about the planet's nervous system to gain a pardon, and that meant he'd be attempting to outwit _two_ countries to gain the nervous system rather than one, but no other information would be valuable enough to the Cretan military to get him pardoned; not even information about the network of Stars below Amestrian soil.

But he didn't want to spend even an hour in a Cretan military prison. The Cretan army was an unimaginative institution of wool-headed clowns who blindly followed orders with the belief doing what other people told them to without question made their lives worthwhile and didn't think or want anything for themselves. He didn't want to act that subservient to them for a fraction of a second. He was aware the Cretan military was no different than most militaries, and if he could tolerate living in a prison in a military state he could tolerate living in a Cretan military prison, but he'd spent years putting up with the Cretan military's nonsense. He hadn't spent years putting up with the Amestrian military's nonsense.

He could shoulder being a chained hound in Amestris. He _couldn't_ shoulder being a chained hound to the Cretan army.

But that was how Equivalent Exchange worked. Nothing could be gained without sacrifice. He'd bear it as long as he had to.

He pushed himself off the wall of the cavern with his left hand, ignoring the pain it caused him, and walked off in search of one of the wolf Chimeras.

Hopefully, the Milosians and the Elrics had revealed to the Chimeras they weren't with Atlas any longer, so the Chimeras weren't sure whether Atlas knew they were hunting him and he was fleeing from them or just the Elrics and the Milosians, and the Chimeras were still in the cave complex, waiting for a time to see if he returned across the water source.

.

Ed stood to the right of his younger brother atop one of the plateaus facing Table City the supports of the train bridges rested on, looking down at the smoke ascending from a funeral pyre on the valley floor in the twilight. They'd passed the people gathering for this funeral on the way out of the valley. Edward had thought of attending, but it hadn't felt right when they were going to be smashing the Milosians' greatest hope.

Even though they hadn't attended, however, he'd wanted to watch the funeral from a distance. As an Amestrian, he owed this to the Milosians. Furthermore, as a person, he owed this to Pedro for failing to keep him alive. Pedro might be one of the people who was burning.

"This is one of the things I meant when I talked about how alchemy doesn't solve every problem," Al spoke up. "The valley floor is dark even though night hasn't fallen, and the people of Milos have had to look up at the bright sky from the shadowed valley floor during the day. Yet the science of alchemy hasn't given them a way to climb into the Sunlight without shedding blood."

"Maybe it will," Edward said, "Once the Stone isn't an option."

He'd watched the funeral long enough. He turned to Alphonse. "But I have something more important to discuss with you."

Alphonse cringed, and then looked down. "I know," he spoke, so much guilt in his voice Ed was aware the guilt in it didn't even scratch the surface of what Al felt the barest amount. "But there was no other way. I knew what it would do to you," Ed's chest felt a miniscule bit less tight, "But I couldn't choose another path. What do you wish I'd have done? Let Julia die?"

Edward opened his mouth, letting the agony that wasn't anguish and the terror surmounting words and the fury and everything else he'd felt when Al had tried to sacrifice himself consume him absolutely, about to give Al a tongue-lashing more severe in numerous ways than any he'd given anyone in his whole life–

But Ed could think of nothing to say.

Yes, Al had been stupid. Yes, Al had hurt Edward horribly, and would have hurt him even worse if he'd succeeded. But as stupid as Al had been, what should he say when Edward, too, knew Alphonse couldn't have made a different choice in good conscience?

Ed couldn't stop himself from wondering if there _was_ anything he could say.

He couldn't believe that. Dying and leaving someone who loved you behind was more wrong than almost anything could be. When people loved you, your life wasn't yours to give up as you saw fit. Ed saw that now. It was indescribably selfish, and incomprehensibly irresponsible. No matter what happened, you couldn't throw away your life. You had to go on living so you didn't cause the people who loved you to suffer.

But when the alternative was letting someone else die, when there truly was no other way to save someone else but to sacrifice yourself, what were you supposed to do then?

Edward wanted to believe there was _always_ another way, but after what had happened when Alphonse had tried to give his life, he couldn't be fully sure he wasn't fooling himself by believing that.

Nor could he believe there was nothing he could say, though. It could never be right to sacrifice your life.

But he couldn't think of anything to say. It could never be right, but he didn't know what that other way he been.

His fury drained away, leaving him so exhausted now it went deeper than his spirit, never mind his bones. He looked to the side.

"Never mind," he spoke. "Let's rest here for the night, repair the train station in the morning, and then solve the riddle of this place."

He was too exhausted to care any more than he cared he couldn't use his automail forearm when he felt a surge of desire at the thought they might be holding a complete Philosopher's Stone in their hands tomorrow.

.

Ashleigh Crichton stood in the cell, looking down at his own face, worn by the person who had murdered his parents.

Atlas sat shackled to the back wall of the cell by his wrists and ankles, the blood from his injuries and the blood he'd used to draw the transmutation circles he'd learned through stealing Ashleigh's parents' research cleaned off of him, and a collar attached to the wall around Atlas' neck so he couldn't form transmutation circles by biting his fingers again. They knew that was how Atlas had drawn his transmutation circles; Sergeant Benjamin had reported seeing damaged flesh on Atlas' fingers, though it was gone now, probably the result of a medical transmutation Julia had performed.

Ashleigh wished with all his heart he could avenge his parents right now, but as much as he hated it, he couldn't do that. The situation hadn't changed as he'd believed it had when he'd learned Atlas had done a good job teaching himself Ashleigh's parents' alchemical techniques. Even though Atlas was almost certainly lying about how seeing Julia again had caused him to feel guilty for his crimes and to want to turn himself in, seek a pardon, and resume serving the military, so long as Atlas was executing whatever his new plot was where Cretan soldiers could keep a close eye on him, Ashleigh could still use Atlas even if he was able to trick a military tribunal into pardoning him. As Ashleigh had originally believed he'd have to, he couldn't avenge his parents until he'd gotten all the use he could out of the bastard.

Furthermore, even if he could have, he still wouldn't be able to kill Atlas here in this cell. If Ashleigh murdered a defenseless prisoner and didn't let the prisoner stand trial in a court and be condemned to execution, _Ashleigh_ would become a fugitive.

"Lieutenant Colonel Herschel," Atlas asked, "I take it? Nice mask. Not as realistic as mine, but you designed it well all the same."

Ashleigh ground his teeth, but he suppressed the urge to fist his hands. He might as well get used to treating Atlas cordially as soon as possible.

That didn't mean there was any reason not to get to the point, though.

"I'm pleased to hear you regret your desertion and your criminal activities," Ashleigh spoke back, voice distorted by his mask, "But your regret is no reason for me not to order you before our military tribunal and sit back as they sentence you to death by firing squad this hour, and we both know that. You wouldn't have come crawling back to the military unless you had something to offer us we'd be willing to pardon you for gaining. What is it?"

"Information on Amestrian alchemical secrets far more valuable than those of Milos," Atlas replied, and Ashleigh repressed the urge to snort. He was used to the stupid perspective many alchemists held obtaining the Star was more worthwhile than obtaining the truth, but he'd never encountered the belief there was something more valuable than the Crimson Star that _wasn't_ the truth. Atlas couldn't be referring to the Truth; the Doorway of Truth was an important part of Milosian alchemical mythology. However, nothing, save the Truth itself, could be more valuable than a catalyst that could open the Doorway of Truth without requiring a person to pay a toll. Atlas had become even more delusional.

But Ashleigh couldn't tell him so.

"These being?" Ashleigh questioned.

"Do you know anything about the Doorway of Truth?" Atlas asked back.

Or perhaps Ashleigh had been wrong. "Yes," Ashleigh responded. "I'm familiar with it and the role it plays in the alchemic mythology of Milos."

"Good," Atlas spoke. "That will make this easier for me to discuss, then.

"An Amestrian alchemist knows of the existence of a supreme Gateway of Truth." Ashleigh's eyes widened. "One that is different than the ordinary human Doorways." There were many Doorways of Truth that were part of every human, and the Doorway of Truth wasn't a separate individual thing? "When an alchemist opens a regular Doorway, threads of the Truth are scoured into his or her brain. But by opening this Gateway of Truth, an alchemist can contain, and thus learn right away, the entire repository of information behind it within himself or herself with a transmutation, a repository that holds all of the information there is about everything making up all the dimensions in existence."

Reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled end over end violently, Ashleigh was barely able to keep himself from staggering back as if struck, and his heart pounded so hard it should have broken out of his chest. He couldn't breathe. He could barely think. Atlas was an ambitious fool with delusions of grandeur, but he was too cunning to tell a lie like this. He wouldn't have told Ashleigh there was an omniscient Doorway of Truth unless Atlas had a valid reason to think it genuinely existed.

And that meant the unknown world that lay on the other side of the Doorway held boundlessly more promise than what Ashleigh had dreamed was the most remotely possible.

Ashleigh couldn't believe it. He knew the world within the Truth was paradise, but he never could have imagined the infinite Ein Sof, the unknowable God who existed at the top of the ladder to heaven outside of anything the human mind could comprehend, even in negatives by saying it couldn't be defined, was _genuinely_ infinite. Heaven lay on the other side of the Doorway, and when Ashleigh opened it he would be able to remake the world as an everlasting utopia, but that heaven had limits, however superior it was to this wasteland of a planet. It wasn't a supernal heaven that just existed in religions where humans could live in infinite bliss.

Or so he'd thought.

Nor could he believe mastering the Truth was as comparably easy to how difficult he'd thought it would be as opening a single Gateway one time and taking its wellspring of knowledge into yourself. He'd believed he'd have to open the Doorway repeatedly and spend years studying and learning from the knowledge it engraved in his brain before he was able to master the Truth, not open a single ultimate Gateway once and learn all the Truth within it within minutes. That he could master the Truth that way should have been a delirious fever dream.

That the world on the other side of the Doorway of Truth was heaven in every way should have been a delirious fever dream too.

But now, though he couldn't believe it, though he was certain this was all a dream and he'd wake up and discover he was in bed and his mind had created yet another comforting illusion so he could find solace from the horror that was his life in sleep, he knew he was awake.

He knew he'd heard Atlas speak those words.

He was so relieved his knees almost buckled. Mastering the Truth meant there was _literally_ no suffering he couldn't extinguish.

He took in deep breath after deep breath until reality stabilized, and then faced Atlas, who was looking at him curiously.

"Tell me everything," Ashleigh ordered Atlas.

.

Ashleigh stood before Atlas.

He didn't have any problems believing the rest of what Atlas had had to tell. Because an all-knowing Gateway of Truth was real, he could believe anything else, even that it led to the nervous system of the planet and its knowledge was sought by an immortal artificial human. Believing the Homunculus whose children called him Father had depopulated one country and was willing to wipe countless millions from another had been easy; he would have been surprised if he'd one day discovered irrefutable evidence no thinking life form _was_ willing to go that far. He couldn't believe there were _any_ depths to which sentience wasn't willing to sink.

That was one of the reasons he was willing to sink that low himself. You couldn't cleanse a world this filthy without wielding its filth against it.

It was a shame he was going to have to spare the valley, however. In countless ways it was the filthiest place of all. But he was the only officer in the Cretan military who knew how to force what was now Table City to fulfill the purpose for which it had been constructed, and if he deserted Creta wouldn't be willing to expend the resources to reclaim the holy land from Amestris when they couldn't transmute Stars in it. That meant, when he disappeared, the soldiers here would be ordered not to bury the valley.

There was no other road he could walk, however. He knew how to master the Truth now, so he had to set out to open the ultimate Gateway. Further, he had to set out before the Sun rose. It was going to be extremely difficult to outmaneuver puppetmasters who had been pulling strings wrapped around millions of people in an entire country for over three hundred fifty years in the time he had before the end of the solar eclipse, and he needed to get started right away.

There was one loose end he needed to tie up here first, though.

Atlas wanted God himself, and wanted to gain contacts in the Cretan army to aid him in doing it. That was obvious. There could be no other reason he'd turned himself in. So, even though slaying Atlas would make Ashleigh a fugitive, Ashleigh would have one less enemy to outwit if he killed Atlas now.

However, the more rivals the one called Father had for the planet's nervous system, the better. Letting Atlas live would cause Ashleigh trouble he could avoid in the long run, but it might also be beneficial.

That meant Ashleigh had to continue to play along with Atlas.

"I see no reason to reject your information as false," Ashleigh spoke. "I'm skeptical, but I have no evidence you're lying, so for now, I'll take your word for it this information is valid. Don't discuss this with anyone else. I'll write my superiors about what you've told me and recommend you be placed on parole until we're able to ascertain whether or not the nationwide underground Star in Amestris truly exists and vouches for your honesty."

Ashleigh had a partially different intention. He was going to write his superiors Atlas had pretended to desert the military in order to investigate rumors of the Amestrian nationwide Star because he'd felt no one would believe him if he warned them it existed, and he'd murdered the Crichtons and stolen their research to gain the means to defend himself in Amestris if anyone attempted to use the network against him. When Atlas heard that was what Ashleigh had written, Atlas would be aware 'Herschel' was more than he appeared to be, but Ashleigh could deal with that, and he needed to expose he had secrets to Atlas to prevent Creta from becoming aware of the omniscient Truth. It was too dangerous to allow anyone else to know about the planet's nervous system, and this deception would achieve that. Atlas would almost certainly pretend Ashleigh's story was true, as it stood just as good a chance of getting Atlas a pardon and saying Ashleigh's story was false would lessen Atlas' chances of being pardoned.

Ashleigh couldn't tell Atlas he was going to lie now, though. If Atlas became aware Herschel was more than he appeared to be before claiming Ashleigh's story was false would lessen Atlas' chances of a pardon, he'd probably give one of the soldiers feeding him that evidence Herschel wasn't who he appeared and bypass Herschel in search of a pardon, and Ashleigh didn't want them to know there was more to him than met the eye until he was miles from Creta.

"I will recommend, should the Star exist, you be pardoned." Atlas smiled in relief, and Ashleigh wanted to split his lips with a punch. "But don't be under any illusions; even should you be pardoned, we will still be watching you for a long time. No intelligent soldier or officer could trust a criminal like you without years' worth of proof you've changed."

Atlas hung his head as low as he could with it collared in a fake show of remorse. "That's fine with me," he said. "I deserve no less. They'll see me providing exemplary service to my nation from now on, but I know no matter how well I serve my nation, it will never return the Crichtons to life."

Ashleigh suppressed the urge to grind his teeth so hard they should chip at Atlas' mention of his parents' names.

Thankfully, here he could afford to show outrage.

"Indeed," Ashleigh replied angrily. "No matter how well we serve the living, we can never recover the dead. There are wrongs we commit that can never be atoned for or forgiven. No matter how you act from now on, you will always be a repulsive stain on the effulgence of the Cretan uniform. You'd do well to remember that for the rest of your service, should you be allowed to serve again, and your life."

Atlas sighed heavily. "I will.

"The Crichton boy whose face I peeled off," he questioned, a tired hope in his voice that was almost too much for Ashleigh to be willing to tolerate, "Do you know if he survived, or was he a victim of my sins as well?"

Ashleigh wanted to grate out he was so horrific a victim Atlas would never be able to fathom it, but Ashleigh couldn't. He'd had enough of this now, however.

"I have no idea," Ashleigh responded, and Atlas grimaced.

Then he turned and walked with correct Cretan military professionalism to the exit of the cell and opened it. But he closed the cell door with slightly more force than necessary and, once Atlas was out of sight, locked it violently.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the Cretan soldier standing guard to the right of the cell, in a darker brown uniform and military cap than Ashleigh's own were colored, asked.

"Nothing you need to know about," Ashleigh responded. "I'm retiring to my quarters to write a letter I'll leave to be carried to the postal station before morning, and then I am not to be disturbed until zero eleven hundred hours."

"Sir!" The soldier saluted him.

Ashleigh saluted him back, and then turned and took his first steps toward hopefully accomplishing his dream of creating a new world.

.

Ed walked at Al's side back onto the grounds in front of the train station, the station restored to its fully functional condition behind them.

"I think we should start solving the riddle by getting a sense of the city as a whole," Ed said.

"Table City as a whole?" Alphonse questioned. "Why?"

"Something's been bothering me about it," Ed replied.

.

Edward and Alphonse stood outside the wall surrounding Table City's lowest level.

Ed didn't have any proof, but he was mostly sure he was right. Ed pointed out at the city in the direction of one of the tall towers rising from its multiple levels.

"Okay," he spoke up. "Do you remember the diagram in the Milosian base?"

"Yes," Alphonse responded. "Why?"

"Do you remember all the towers standing above Table City in the diagram?" Edward gestured to his brother, and led him into the city, up onto a narrow curving walkway made out of pipes, and to a curving area where they had a better view of one of the towers.

"I remember them, too," Al replied once they'd stopped.

"Do you think it's a little strange, too?" Ed asked.

"I'm not following," Alphonse responded.

"If it's supposed to be a map of the valley they were digging in, why would they include the towers at all?" Ed asked. He resumed walking, and directed Al to and onto a level walkway of concrete with railings that curved and turned in the direction of other towers.

This time, Al didn't wait until they'd stopped. After they'd traveled for a long time on the walkway he replied, "Maybe it is. I think that's a little strange, too."

"What I think is even more strange," Ed said, "There weren't any other buildings on the diagram. Just the towers."

He spoke nothing more until they were on a stone walkway passing in front of a place with a large golden structure shaped like around half of a ring resting three areas of stone higher than the one they were traveling on, behind multiple railings. "If it's true the Milosians who created that diagram were following instructions of a sort to find the Philosopher's Stone, then…" He trailed off, knowing Al was partially aware what Ed was thinking.

Al didn't speak anything until they were standing at the edge of a platform further west, though. "You're saying you think they built their towers for a reason Creta didn't know about when it founded Table City and built the towers that currently exist, and the present-day towers are connected to the Philosopher's Stone."

Ed took a book out of one of his pockets and opened it to two pages, each with a drawing he'd made last night. He was even more sure he was right now that they'd traveled through Table City and gotten a closer view at multiple towers. "Yes. I'm also saying I think the Cretans might have solved the mystery of the towers to an extent, and wanted something to sacrifice.

He pointed at the drawing on the left page with his dangling right hand. "These are the locations of the towers as the diagram in the base shows them." Then he pointed at the drawing on the right page. "And these are the actual locations of the towers. Look at this." He brought his right hand across a row of filled-in circles in the middle of the drawing on the right page, talking as he did. "South of the axis line of these towers."

"One of the towers is missing," Al spoke.

"A tower used to be there," Edward said, "And it's been destroyed."

"You think that's why the tower is missing?" Alphonse questioned.

"Yeah," Ed responded. "I think Creta sacrificed the tower, to divert power and try to concentrate energy at the point where the tower in the south is. I think the towers are likely points on a citywide transmutation circle for transmuting the Stone." He grimaced. The concepts of people creating a transmutation circle out of a city and being willing to sacrifice others on a citywide scale was nowhere near as bad as the concepts of people creating a transmutation circle out of a country and being willing to sacrifice all the people within a nation, but they were still revolting.

He touched the bottommost filled-in circle on the left page with his right hand. He wished they could destroy the possible circle by wrecking one of the towers, but they couldn't damage public property, even more so when he had no proof they were points on a circle. "We need to pay this location a visit."

.

It was getting on in the afternoon when they arrived at the grounds in front of a familiar tower emerging from a church and surrounded by four golden constructs with bells, one of them broken and leaning to the side.

"I don't know whether to call it sad or appropriate this is the place," Alphonse remarked. "Or both."

Ed didn't respond. He headed for the double doors into the church, Al at his side. It was long past time for lunch, but they could stop to eat when they knew why Creta had sacrificed the tower here.

They opened the doors and walked down the aisle between the pews in the nave, and Edward examined the floor, the curved ceiling, the wall they'd entered through, the walls to the side, the mostly rounded wall in the back, and the pews, but he saw nothing unusual. They reached the altar, but he could see nothing unusual about it too.

"The church itself appears ordinary," Ed spoke.

Al was still looking around, and he must have seen something, for he turned to his left and pointed in that direction up at the purple tapestry with a gold design on it hanging from a pole attached to the left wall, relative to the direction Edward was looking in, closest to the mostly rounded back wall. "Brother!"

It was waving.

"There's a breeze," Edward knew.

He walked over to the flat section of the back wall between the corner and the rounded portion to its right, relative to the direction Ed was facing, and looked at it closely. The outline of a door could be seen in that area of the wall. He clapped his left hand to his dangling right hand, and then turned his right hand forward by moving his right shoulder back and pressed his left hand and body against the wall so both hands were touching it. Blue currents crackled, and the door swung open.

Edward walked through the door onto a curving stone platform that ran along the walls of a chamber open to the sky and surrounding the tower rising out of the church. The tower extended down into the darkness, also surrounded by a narrow downward sloping walkway constructed of pipes that spiraled along the walls of the chamber below the stone platform and ran down into the darkness itself.

Ed halted, as did Al, and they looked up at the tower. "So this is it," Edward commented.

"There was no Cretan tower built here," Al said. "The Cretans _were_ attempting to concentrate energy at this place, and wanted to do so with less work, so they didn't take the effort of constructing a tower of their own, and built the church to hide and encircle the Milosian-era tower."

"Indeed," Ed responded. "That makes this the gateway to the other world."

They jumped down from the stone platform to the walkway of pipes and followed it down, and after a period of time it opened into a vast underground chamber held up by massive columns that had to be around the size of Table City. Within it rested another city with buildings constructed in an older style of architecture, built on a single level and with rising and falling curving pipe walkways of its own rising out of it, extending over it, and running up the sides of other Milosian-era towers stretching up out of the city that no doubt ascended into the Cretan Table City towers. The chamber was lit by light spilling through the holes the towers rose out of and other, differently shaped openings in the ceiling.

Despite everything going on and what he'd learned, Edward found himself awed. This city was probably part of the transmutation circle, but it itself wasn't the transmutation circle. So the scale of the chamber and the scale of the effort he knew must have gone into building it over this city wasn't just revolting; it was extremely impressive when he didn't think there was much left that _could_ impress him.

He wasn't truly surprised this was the answer to why Creta and the Milosians had never found a Stone in the valley, however. Genuine surprise at discoveries things like this was a thing of the past.

He was relieved, though, even though it was almost certain now people had been sacrificed throughout a city here in the past. For the existence of this city almost certainly meant just one Philosopher's Stone existed within what used to be Milos.

He led Alphonse well into the city, and then knelt at the edge of the pipe walkway to his right to get a better look at the city. Al did the same.

"We've peeled open a new layer to this onion," Edward spoke.

"Indeed," Alphonse responded, and he barely sounded surprised himself. "This must be a Milosian town. But why is it underground beneath Table City?"

"Creta did this," Ed spoke back. "The Milosians must have transmuted what they call the Crimson Star here before Creta's invasion. When Creta discovered this, they took over the Hill of Milos and built Table City to cover up this one."

"They didn't want anyone else to know about the secret of the Stone," Alphonse voiced what Ed was thinking.

"However," Edward took up speaking their thoughts, "Before Creta could solve the riddle of how the Stars were transmuted, this area was taken from them by Amestris, that wanted to expand its territory. I extremely highly doubt Amestris knew what had once been Milos possessed a Stone at the beginning, or they would have put the Milosians to work excavating the valley themselves.

"But the government of Table City must have learned of this place by now." He experienced a surge of terror. Did that mean the Homunculi knew, and Soyuz was working for them? He doubted it. If the Major was, he would have dismissed his soldiers, talked to Edward privately, and ordered Ed to stay out of the valley. "It's now a question whether any of them solved the riddle."

.

Edward saw the church, with a wide unopened double doorway barred at two heights behind a curved porch in its front, and broke into a run towards its front, Alphonse behind him. Ed stopped closer to it, Al doing the same.

This was what Ed had been looking for in the underground city near the south tower. When he'd seen this city, he'd become aware the Cretans had probably built a church in Table City to hide the Milosian tower and diverted energy to that tower because there was a church near the south tower in this city where the unsolved answers to the mystery of the Stone existed. The Sunlight shining through the openings in the ceiling of the chamber had turned into Moonlight and starlight by now, but they were at it.

"This may be a good sign," Ed said, referring to the closed and locked doors. "From the looks of it, the government of Table City hasn't solved the mystery themselves. And that it looks that way probably means they haven't, because if they had, this church would probably be open."

He walked up the steps to the curved porch with Alphonse behind him, clapped his hands, and touched the doorway, reconstructing hands out of it in blue light that lifted the bars out of the way. He pushed the door on his right open, and saw the candlelit wide nave beyond led to a staircase descending into darkness.

He gestured to Al to go in, entered the hallway after Alphonse, and retrieved two of the candles, handing one to Alphonse. Multiple seconds later they were past the aisle between the pews and descending the staircase.

"The church up above is nothing but a dummy built to conceal the tower and the entrance to the underground city," Ed aired what they were both thinking. "This one, I think, is a different story. I think we're about to discover the secret of the holy land."

At the bottom of the staircase was another pair of double doors, and Edward opened the one on the left, looking into a red-carpeted octagonal room beyond with numerous gold filled-in circles on it, more double doors on the opposite wall, and the lights of the night spilling through where the top of the ceiling should have been. Eight narrow openings in the floor ran from the eight corners of the room to meet in the center of a golden circular diagram, but the diagram didn't look like a transmutation circle.

Ed walked into the room in the direction of the doors and looked around, but it was empty.

He blinked. "What in the world? There isn't anything here." He shook his head at himself, slightly irritated he'd made the mistake of bringing them all this way just for them to find out he'd been wrong.

He looked at his brother. "I didn't know for certain, but I thought I was onto something. Sorry, Al."

"You might have been," Alphonse replied reassuringly. "This chamber looks like it was constructed for a special reason. Furthermore, we haven't seen this whole place. Maybe there's something beyond this room."

That was true. "I hope so." Edward seized the handle to the left door and pushed it open, looking back at the room they were in as he did to see if he'd missed something.

"Brother!" Al cried. "There's something in here!"

Ed turned and looked into the other room to see a rectangular construct colored primarily gray on the side he could see and the top resting in the room down a step, with red areas near the short sides and two rows of small circular golden protrusions along the front side.

"Maybe this is the special reason," Edward spoke. He walked up to the construct.

Alphonse came with him, opening the other door as he did. "It looks like a tomb," he remarked as they reached it.

"Let's open it." Ed put his candle down at the nearest corner of the floor extending forwards to a protruding area of the step, and Alphonse put his candle down on the opposite corner. They took positions on the two short sides of the construct. Numerous sections protruded from the side Edward walked to a pattern, and the side possessed more gold and was shaded purple, green, and orange in addition to red. He stuck his left hand in the left of two hand slots, and saw Al had already done the same with his hands. "Ready, set…"

Ed strained to lift the top of the construct with one hand, but he was able to, and an empty purple inside was revealed when they moved it up off the bottom of the construct.

The old, rash Edward who hadn't learned to use his brain more would have cursed and put his side of the top back down, but the Ed who had learned to think stiffened. "Al, throw the top on the floor and hit the walls beside the door!" he cried.

Alphonse did as his older brother had shouted and they turned to run to the walls, but Ed came to a halt when he saw people had followed them to this trap.

Major Soyuz was standing amidst a group of four Amestrian soldiers, their rifles out. Ed threw himself to the side, clapped, and brought his left hand and body to the floor, sending the other sides of the walls of the room to the sides of the doorway extending out and swinging inwards in the direction of the Amestrian soldiers, hurling all of them but Soyuz into the extensions across from the ones that hit them. Alphonse raced out of the room and slugged each one in the head, knocking them unconscious.

Soyuz' jaw was hanging, and then he clenched his teeth and snarled.

"So walking all over the Milosians isn't enough for you," Edward snarled at him as he got up. "You're after the Philosopher's Stone yourself."

"What of it?" Soyuz rejoined. "I'm the governor of Table City. The treasures of the holy land belong to me." He drew himself up. "Stand down, now. We share the same rank, but I'm a government official and you're a mere State Alchemist, and you have no proof I intended you harm. I can arrest you with ease."

Ed laughed once, harshly. "You stranded me in the valley. I can combine that with the presence of Amestrian soldiers with armed rifles to build a case. And considering State Alchemists are more valuable to High Command than the governor of a border town, we both know you'll be the one sentenced. If I were you, I'd get down on my hands and knees and grovel before me in the hopes I'll show you mercy."

The Major ground his teeth. "You're an impudent whelp, you know that?"

Edward shrugged. "I've been called worse. Now talk, and maybe I'll use my influence to try to persuade a military tribunal to make your sentence a little lighter. Were you the one who had this trap built?"

Soyuz snarled, but replied. "Yes. I sought to catch alchemists seeking to unravel the mystery of the Stone with that coffin, and force them to do so for my sake, or tell me what they'd learned if they'd already unraveled the mystery." He sneered. "You disappoint me, Fullmetal Alchemist. Given your reputation, I'd believed you would be able to solve the mystery of this room, but I appear to have overestimated your intelligence. There's probably nothing for it. Once I get away from you, I'll have to rely on one of those Milosian mosquitoes to do it."

Ed snorted. "Deflate your head, you bastard. You'll never get away from me and you know it. In addition, even if you could, a murderer like you could never use the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's no issue," the Major responded. "The world is filled with people who would do anything to get their hands on a Philosopher's Stone. I'll enlist the aid of an alchemist and sell him or her the privilege of transmuting with the Stone for any price I think suitable."

Ed laughed harshly. "You still believe you have a chance of walking free. Get a clue.

"Answer me this." As Al had said, the outside room looked like it had been constructed for a special reason, but since there was nothing else unusual about this church, the Cretans probably hadn't tried to gather energy in the south because that tower was unique. They'd probably chosen this point at random. Yet the octagonal chamber had to be related to the southern Milosian tower in a way. It couldn't be coincidence it existed in the vicinity of the tower. That meant there might be other chambers in the vicinity of the other towers. "Are there a lot of other underground chambers like the one you're standing in throughout this buried city?"

"Yes," Soyuz responded. "Why?"

"I'll let you worry about that," Edward spoke. "Would you tell me about them?"

"They're all as empty as the one I'm standing in," the Major revealed. "Furthermore, they all open into rooms like the one you're in. But those rooms are empty of everything save speaking tubes like the three behind you." Ed glanced back to see three golden speaking pipes ascending up out of the room along the back wall. "I didn't order coffins constructed in any of the others."

Edward blinked. "Then what purpose did you have the speaking tubes built for?"

Soyuz snarled. " _I_ didn't have them built! They were already there when I discovered the chambers! I don't know what they're for, so don't ask me! I assume Creta built them as a means of communicating between Table City and this ghost city!"

That didn't make sense. Why would Creta expend the resources to build speaking tubes into rooms they had no reason to take residence in? They'd probably spent a lot of time combing these rooms to try to unlock their secrets, but that was no reason to go to the trouble of extending speaking tubes all the way from Table City down here.

Then Ed _knew_.

"That's answer enough," he said, and ran at the Major, swinging his left fist at the side of Soyuz' head. His eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor, unconscious, and Edward clapped his hands, lowered his left hand and body to the floor, and transmuted stone arches over him in blue energies, pinning him to the floor.

"The towers themselves aren't the points of the citywide circle," Al spoke as Edward arose, obviously as aware as Ed was of this part of the answer to the riddle. "They're meant to guard the special rooms. The _chambers_ are the points, or at the least, those openings in the floors mean they open up into the points below. And the speaking tubes hold the lines connecting the points of the circle. They're not the lines themselves; if they were, there'd be no need to use tubes. They're meant to hold human blood as the lines of the circle; this transmutation circle must not be powered by shedding blood at its points, but by sending blood everywhere the circle is.

"A three-dimensional transmutation circle. Another thing we didn't know was possible.

"But that doesn't tell us where in the circle the Stone was transmuted, and because the circle is built of blood in pipes, we're going to have a much harder time doing that than we thought. It could be literally anywhere in Table City or this city, or in the surface between the two. So we'll need to see all the pipes to know the complete equation of the circle to find the Stone, and that's going to be almost as difficult."

"That means we don't need to," Edward replied, and walked over to one of the speaking tubes. A clap of his hands, a press of his body and left hand, and currents of blue energies, and the lower portions of the three pipes had been twisted into the shape of one giant knot with many turns not just through the knot, but into themselves and out other portions or sides of themselves or one of the other tubes. "If we can't find it without seeing the equation, even if the Milosians now have a better chance of locating it than previous generations had, they aren't going to get any meaningful distance without seeing the equation themselves. All we need to do is drastically alter or get rid of a large number of portions of the speaking tubes, enough so it'll be mostly certain no one will be able to discover how to fill in the pieces of the equation we've removed and learn it, and the Stone should remain hidden long enough for us to launch the coup. No Milosian will be able to transmute a new Stone as well."

"I'm not certain about that," Alphonse responded. "Don't forget Julia. Atlas said he wants her to attain the Star. She might have learned something critical about it from her parents when she was a child, something Atlas knows is critical and she doesn't, and she might become aware what it is."

"You have a point."

But now that he knew how difficult it was to locate the Stone when you were unfamiliar with the circle for transmuting it, the reason Atlas had waited in an Amestrian prison for so long appeared before him as clear as day.

"Actually," he amended, "I wouldn't worry about that. That's not why Atlas wants Julia."

"What does he want her for, then?" Alphonse questioned.

"Julia's parents must have inscribed two portions of a map that shows the Stone's location on Ashleigh and Julia," Edward replied, and Al gasped. "There's no other reason for Atlas to have stayed in prison for so long when he could have escaped any time. He must have peeled Ashleigh's part of the map off him before Atlas killed him around four-and-a-half years ago, but Julia was too young then for her part of the map to properly fit together with Ashleigh's. Atlas needed to wait until she grew big enough the two parts would correctly combine."

"And he couldn't know what the proper size of her map was when she was that little," Al aired Edward's thoughts, "So he couldn't have created a larger copy himself.

"That makes sense. Further, if Atlas goes after Julia again when his wounds heal, the Milosians will be ready for him, so he won't be locating the Stone. All right then. Let's get to work ruining the circle."

And then they'd return to Central.

To his surprise, Edward found he was disappointed. This had been another wild goose chase, but he still didn't want this journey to be over. He'd been brought face to face with more of the sadism of reality, but in its own way, this journey had also been a relief from their struggle against the one called Father, the Fϋhrer, and the nationwide transmutation circle. The end of this journey would again mean a return to that beyond nightmare.

But he needed to stop being upset every time he had to return to it. His responsibilities weren't going to go away until they defeated the one called Father and his servants and allies, or Ed died in the attempt.

"Let's," Ed said.

.

A knock on the door to his hotel room in West City woke Kimblee from his sleep, but he'd trained himself to sleep lightly long ago, and was fully alert as soon as he woke up. He got out of bed, aware from how long he'd slept it was in the latter hours of the night, walked to the door, and opened it.

A male soldier saluted. "We've confirmed the fugitive is in West City," he informed Kimblee. "As well as his location. He's hiding out in an abandoned clothes store two streets back from the road running along the eastern side of the Ocilla River. Shall I radio the soldiers surrounding it to move in and arrest him, or wait for you to arrive on the scene?"

"Order them to keep the perimeter secured," Kimblee responded. "I'm going in alone. No one is to follow me in to engage the target under any circumstances."

Kimblee smiled. Finally. He could enjoy using his talents to the best of his ability again. As added bonuses, he'd be able to engage in conflict against someone with beliefs as strong as his, even though he was a hypocrite; purge this planet of another hypocrite who was preventing people who sought to be true to themselves from freely using _their_ talents; and he'd be confronting someone who had had the most intriguing misconception of the Crimson Alchemist's personality he'd encountered in his life.

His wait was over. He shivered in anticipation of the beautiful orchestra he'd be conducting before the morning was done.

.

Edward, standing in the street of the underground metropolis, touched his hands to the tube, blue light crackled, and parts of the tube thinned into a wire with no space inside it, then the altered area of the tube wrapped around itself.

He sighed.

They were done.

The citywide transmutation circle had been fouled up so badly it was likely no Milosian would be able to learn its equation. Finding tubes running throughout the underground city had taken little effort; they could be seen curving or descending in plain sight over the Milosian city. It had taken them a long time to travel among them, but it hadn't been any trouble to locate them, and reconstructing them and wrecking them had been basic alchemy. The circle was damaged so badly it was mostly certain no one would be transmuting a new Stone or finding the existing one.

"We did it," Alphonse sounded as if he couldn't fully believe it.

Ed knew the feeling. After they'd failed and murdered Nina and gotten Winry taken prisoner, it was difficult to believe they'd actually succeeded at something again, even saving people from being harmed or killed by a smaller danger unrelated to the threat to Amestris, something they'd accomplished too many times in the past to count.

The days he'd believed he could tackle anything felt like they'd happened a lifetime ago.

But this was real. They'd done it. It didn't enable him to regain any of his lost confidence, not when Winry might have been tortured or might have lost her human body, or would be, but they'd done it.

"We sure did." Edward did smile a fake smile now. After having succeeded at anything after they'd failed so terribly and made such catastrophic mistakes, any success made there be a point to smiling.

"And we wrapped this up without needing to mop up another typical mess. Let's retrieve Soyuz, say farewell to Julia, and get out of here."

.

Ed swore.

Major Soyuz, and the other four soldiers Edward had bound to the church floor, were gone.

One or more other soldiers must have traveled down here when he hadn't reported in or returned and freed him.

"Great," Edward spoke. "He's probably alerted the Table City military and military police about us by now. Capturing him again is going to be a pain, assuming he doesn't flee the city before we reach him."

"We wrapped this up without dealing with another typical mess, huh?" Alphonse asked.

Ed sighed in frustration, exhaustion, and irritation. "I know."

.

Edward started when they emerged from the Table City church in the early morning light to see Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Lieutenant Colonel Archer, and a squad of soldiers walking up to the church doors.

The Colonel stopped and smirked, and the other soldiers came to a halt. "So you decided to return to the scene of the crime. Feeling guilty about causing an international incident, Fullmetal?"

Ed sighed. It was good Mustang was here – that meant it would be much easier to remove Soyuz from power – but they didn't have time for this. "What are you talking about this time?"

"Let's see," Mustang spoke. "The train wreck. Letting an illegal immigrant escape Amestrian custody, one who just so happens to be a criminal wanted by Creta too." Edward blinked. He knew Creta had reasons to consider Julia a criminal, but why did they want her specifically? Did they know about her map? "Letting your brother cross the border into Creta illegally. Letting the escaped fugitive flee into Creta. Crossing the border into Creta illegally yourself. Doing whatever you did to get so much on the bad side of the military here they wouldn't answer my questions about whether they knew of your current whereabouts, forcing me to investigate myself. I'm sure you had your reasons, and that the military here has been toeing the line of insubordination with me implies I can't trust them, but it's clear you're still very far away from learning the meaning of the words 'careful' and 'inconspicuous.' You've made another fine mess, and caused an international incident by letting Miss Crichton leave Table City."

Edward suppressed the urge to wince. Mustang was right. He wasn't learning anywhere near as well as he'd thought he was. But that wasn't important now.

"That doesn't matter," Edward replied. "Creta has no say in what goes on here, and neither does Amestris. This area belongs to Julia's people, the Milosians, and Amestris and Creta have been oppressing them as horribly as Amestris oppressed Ishval."

Numerous things passed over the Flame Alchemist's face, but then his expression regained military professionalism. "Do you have proof of this?"

"The proof is all over the floor of the valley," Ed responded. "It's covered by garbage from Table City, and the Milosians live in a shantytown. I can take you down there and show you once we've arrested Soyuz." Mustang's eyebrow rose. "But we need to do that first. He attempted to take me prisoner to try to force me to work for him, or dispose of me, and I caught him when he made the attempt. If we don't arrest him before too much more time has passed, he may get away, if it's not already too late."

"I cannot arrest another military officer without proof of misconduct," the Colonel said. "Regardless of how serious your charges are against him. You know that. Did his soldiers aim their rifles at you?"

"No," Ed replied, "But he stranded me in Cretan territory when I crossed the border."

Mustang smiled faintly. "That will do." He turned to face Hawkeye, Archer, and the other soldiers. "You heard him!" he cried. "We're off to the command tower at the center of Table City to arrest Major Soyuz on charges of corruption! Move out!"

.

"We have a new problem, sir," a soldier told Peter when he picked up the ringing phone, seated at his desk in his office attached to Table City's central tower, other soldiers and the blonde-haired, Sunglasses wearing Sergeant Fiss Sizzler moving around the office packing up his most important files and belongings in boxes.

Peter snarled. This was insane! He was the officer in charge of a city that oversaw a culture reaching back approximately three thousand years into the mists of time, that protected the border from an enemy nation, and that hid the ultimate alchemical treasure. His career shouldn't be falling apart, it should have long since grown wings and carried him to a perch in High Command, and now that it had fallen apart, nothing _else_ should have gone wrong. "Now what!?" he yelled.

"Colonel Mustang has met up with the Fullmetal Alchemist," all the blood drained from Peter's face, "And he's on his way in your direction."

Peter ground his teeth. Then there was nothing for it. He wasn't going to be able to salvage his career by fleeing Table City and laying low until this blew over. He had to focus on ensuring he wasn't imprisoned now.

"Do nothing to interfere or give him any more reason to be cautious than he already has," Peter ordered. "I'll deal with him."

He slammed the phone onto its receiver and turned to Sergeant Sizzler, who was holding a box and looking at Peter. "There's been a change of plans. Colonel Mustang is on his way."

Sizzler paled. "What do you want me to do, sir?"

"It's time for you to give your life for the glory of Amestris."

.

Walking up one of the staircases ascending Table City's central tower, Roy frowned when he saw a single soldier with short blonde hair and Sunglasses waiting for him at the entrance to the Major's glass-walled office, and no one else inside. No Table City soldier or Table City military police officer had defied Roy's orders to stay out of his way and tried to stop them from reaching Soyuz, but the Major must have been told the Flame Alchemist was on his way with Fullmetal a long time ago, and there was no way Soyuz didn't know why. That no one had attempted to stop them hadn't implied Soyuz was setting a trap, as Roy did outrank the Major, but the presence of the single soldier made it much more possible. If the soldiers in the office meant no harm to Roy because he outranked Soyuz, he might be able to see others.

What was the trap, then, if there was one? Were soldiers in the office waiting in ambush past where it turned out of sight around the tower? Had everyone else evacuated the office save the blonde-haired soldier, leaving him behind to try to trick them into lowering their guards so a bomb inside the office could kill them along with the blonde-haired soldier?

Roy sighed. If this was a trap, there was probably no way to figure out what it was without triggering it. They'd have to spring it.

Lieutenant Hawkeye walked in front of him, aiming her gun at the blonde-haired soldier, and he gestured for everyone else to stay back. Then he approached the glass door to the office, positioning his fingers to snap them.

The blonde-haired soldier opened the door to the office, put his hands in the air where they could see them, and walked out, descending the staircase in their direction.

"Don't move," Hawkeye commanded him, keeping her gun trained on him. The soldier halted. "We're here to arrest Major Peter Soyuz on charges of abuses of power, dereliction of duty, and attempted assault on a fellow officer. Where can we find him?"

"You don't have the authority to compel me to tell you, Lieutenant," the soldier replied.

"I do," the Flame Alchemist interjected. "I'm giving you a direct order. Where is Major Soyuz?"

The soldier clenched his teeth. "He headed for the top of the central tower with three other soldiers. There's a speaking tube there he's using to listen for when we're on this conversation," the soldier turned his head in the direction of the door. The Lieutenant's finger shifted, but she didn't fire. A golden tube climbed up near the wall of the tower to the left of the door relative to the direction Roy was facing in, "And they're going to climb and slide down the other side of the tower now that we are."

"I assume you're supposed to keep us occupied while they do," the Flame Alchemist said dryly. "Go on, then. Spring your trap, if you're willing to give your life. But I hope you don't believe you'll get a military funeral."

"Of course I don't."

Then the soldier threw himself forwards down the stairs in their direction, and Roy's eyes widened as he realized what the trap was.

The next thing Roy knew, fire came detonating out of the sole of the soldier's left boot as he pressed the switch on a bomb concealed inside the sole with the bottom of his foot and Hawkeye was hurling herself into him, knocking him backwards down the staircase and shielding him with her body, and fire and roaring drowned out all the world. Roy found himself thrown further backwards in mid-flight and then one of the stairs rose up to strike the back of his head and blackness erupted over his vision and then scorching heat washed over him. For a number of seconds there was nothing but the roar of the bomb's explosion and black spots in his vision and fire passing over him and heat he was as familiar with as the shape of his toes.

Then the roar died, although it echoes bounced down the staircase and over the surface of the tower and the other surfaces around them.

Roy groaned and carefully shifted his head, then brought his left ungloved hand to the back of his head and touched it with his fingers. It came away warm and sticky.

Wonderful. And, knowing his luck, he had a concussion too.

But he'd survived the trap. That was the important thing.

He pushed himself carefully up with his elbows, looking up. "Thanks as usual for the save, Lie–"

Everything vanished save the sight in front of him. Reality, time, the sticky warmth on his fingers, the fading echoes of the bomb's roar, the staircase below him and the office ahead and the tower to his left and his awareness he existed itself. Nothing existed but what he could see in front of him up the mangled, broken staircase, and on his chest, and memories of Ishval so unreal he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining them.

After Ishval, he'd thought he'd witnessed such unimaginable nightmares no sight, no matter how horrible, could truly traumatize him again. Not after he'd seen the blackened corpses of countless Ishvalan soldiers lying in pools of blood with sightless eyes gazing at nothing and their burnt skin peeling off or strewn in roasted pieces by the remains of their bodies. Not after he'd seen babies and children and the elderly lying broken and bleeding with their shattered bones sticking up through their flesh, bloody bullet holes in their heads or chests, and one or more limbs missing and lying twisted nearby.

But _nothing_ he'd seen in Ishval could even begin to brush the surface of the tapestry in front of him with the barest and most feather light touch. It couldn't even descend to an infinite distance from that surface.

Riza Hawkeye's charred corpse lay in pieces of blackened and bloody limbs and feet and hands and fingers and portions of her torso on the mangled ruins of the staircase in front of him, her separated head, most of it behind her face a ruin of burnt skull and bone chips and brain matter and blood, resting on his chest, eyes forever frozen as they looked sightlessly at him.

.

"You could not even protect the most important person in your life, Elly."-Hyuga "Citan Uzuki" Ricdaeu

XENOGEARS


	11. Shadow of a Beloved Companion

**Author's Note:** I realized potential readers of this story this might be more interested in what happens in what I'd intended to Post next Saturday than in the first ten Chapters due to what happens in these Chapters versus what happens in the first batch, so I'm Posting the second batch today. I'm not attempting to draw attention to my story, and I'm sorry if it looks like I am. I don't care about my stories getting attention. I'm Posting the second batch because I'm worried the first ten Chapters weren't that interesting and I want people to enjoy this story, and since I have more available I can Post now, I'm hoping Posting the second group now will give potential readers a story they enjoy reading more. (Though I'm not doing this in the sense of catering to the masses.) I'm sorry if I bored anyone.

If I realize later I should have Posted the whole story sooner, though, I'm still waiting until 12:00 Midnight Saturday - I believe I'm experienced enough with Posting Chapters here I can time the release correctly now - to Post what might be the third and final batch (I'm saying 'might' because I may have Chapters past Twenty-Three done by then). I hope, if people found the first batch of Chapters uninteresting, those reading this find this portion of the story more interesting!

.

 **CHAPTER 11:**

 **SHADOW OF A BELOVED COMPANION**

.

Isaac's eyes opened.

Most people wouldn't have heard it, but Isaac was a veteran of the Ishvalan Civil War, a conflict in which the enemies of the Amestrian military had been experts at using the arrangements of their towns, villages, and cities, and the terrain, to their advantage. His senses had been trained to react to the slightest shift in the area around him, and Isaac knew someone had quietly opened the door to the clothes store and was creeping through it.

He'd been found at last.

Isaac crawled out of his sleeping bag and got to his feet. He checked his left palm to ensure the alkahestry transmutation circle drawn there hadn't been smudged during his sleep, and when he saw it hadn't, he tiptoed to the door of the office he was in and looked through the eye slot.

For a number of seconds he saw nothing, and then a familiar male with black hair in a ponytail, now wearing a white suit with a white, brimmed hat, crept past an aisle between stands of clothing.

Isaac sneered. The Fϋhrer was even willing to pardon a criminal who had killed five officers for fun if Bradley could make use of him. It didn't surprise Isaac, though. It wasn't the lowest Bradley had sunk by an enormous margin.

There was no reason to waste any time.

Isaac picked up the jug of water on the table near the door, swung it open, and touched the jug with his left hand. Blue currents ran over it, and raced in the direction he'd seen Kimblee walk, then hurled an amount of the water in the jug, now highly pressurized and capable of erupting, at the Crimson Alchemist. Kimblee threw himself behind a circular clothing rack, but Isaac touched the jug again and thrust it in that direction, and a geyser burst from it in blue light to tear through the clothing racks at Kimblee.

Kimblee, though, clapped his hands and touched the circular rack, and metal fragments exploded before him in blue energies, blocking the geyser.

Kimblee smiled. "It's good to see you again, McDougal," he greeted. "Our conversation when I was in prison was one of the most interesting diversions from the monotony of my prison life I had the pleasure of going through. I've been looking forward to reuniting with you and being so greatly entertained again for a long time."

Disgust rose within Isaac. There shouldn't have been anything entertaining about someone believing Kimblee wasn't a bastard. That Kimblee found Isaac's mistake entertaining was further proof Kimblee was filth.

"You won't find it entertaining when I transmute all the water in your body into steam and scald you alive," Isaac retorted. He wasn't as sure of himself as his words implied, though. He knew Kimblee couldn't have come here alone, and soldiers were undoubtedly surrounding the clothing store. They might be waiting for Kimblee to tie him up in combat before moving in.

He needed to finish this quickly.

So blue washed through the air from his left palm and five ice sculptures shaped like _kunai_ launched into the air from the water jug. Kimblee was able to tell by their trajectories they weren't going to hit him, and stood still, looking at the Freezer Alchemist warily and attempting to figure out what he was up to.

Isaac knelt on the floor as the _kunai_ hit it and pressed his left palm against it, but as Isaac did, Kimblee's eyes widened, the Crimson Alchemist realizing what was going on. He jumped out of the remote circle as it activated in crackling blue, and Isaac was just able to transmute the water near the right side of Kimblee's right leg into steam. Kimblee clenched his teeth as the steam scorched him and staggered as he landed on the floor, and Isaac transmuted with his Philosopher's Stone, hoping to strike the Crimson Alchemist before he could recover.

Red crackled over his right wrist, and Isaac transmuted the water in the blood of his right wrist, launching it out of his wrist in the form of three sharp-pointed red constructs and ignoring the pain from his skin being ripped open. They shot towards the unbalanced Kimblee's neck, and the other alchemist's eyes went wide again. He ducked, but the lowest point caught him in the left portion of his forehead and stabbed into him, sending him falling back onto his posterior.

More red coursed over Isaac's left wrist, and three more sharp-pointed constructs shot out in Kimblee's direction, aimed at his heart.

Then Isaac's own eyes went wide as red currents ran out from Kimblee's legs into the floor, and Isaac stopped his transmutation and leapt back, but the floor erupted below him in countless large chunks, and agony ripped up the Freezer Alchemist's legs and lower arms as the chunks impaled them. He crashed to the floor on his back and pushed himself into a sitting position, seeing the chunks had also shattered his constructs, and transmuted four more out of one of the wounds in his left knee, but more red coursed from Kimblee's legs into another circular clothes rack near him, and it detonated into shrapnel headed right for him. Isaac threw himself backwards to the floor, continuing his transmutation this time, but the Crimson Alchemist rolled to the side and the sharp-pointed constructs passed by Kimblee. The shrapnel sailed over the Freezer Alchemist, but he knew he was at a disadvantage wounded this badly.

"So this is the real reason you murdered those officers in Ishval," Isaac kept pain out of his voice as best he could. "It wasn't just for fun. No one else below those close to, and at, the top, knew you had another Stone, and you wanted to make your possession of it a secret. Further, that's why you weren't executed and why you're working for Bradley again. Bradley thought you might still be useful in the future. And you didn't use the Stone to escape your cell because you knew he might make use of you down the line and you preferred to wait for your possible official release rather than become a fugitive."

"All correct," Kimblee revealed with a smile. "It's good to know you're doing better than last time. That alone makes this battle worth it. Regretfully, you won't live long enough to continue to make use of that wisdom."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Isaac snarled angrily, but he couldn't keep frustration out of his voice. His Water Alchemy was more versatile than Kimblee's ability to make things explode, but Isaac was more badly wounded and the Crimson Alchemist had companions outside. He could heal his injuries with the Stone and alkahestry, but that would take up time he needed to use to defend himself or strike. He had a lesser chance than Kimblee of surviving this encounter and he knew it as well as Kimblee did. "My Water Alchemy defeated the Hero of Ishval when we fought in Central, and I didn't even have to use my Stone to do it. If I can beat him I can beat a lunatic like you."

Without warning, there came the sound of something detonating and then smoke spread throughout the chamber. Kimblee swore and rolled behind a square clothes rack seconds before bullets tore through the air where he'd been sitting, and then arms were picking Isaac up carefully from behind and to the sides and he looked to his side to see he was being held by soldiers garbed in the white of the Fort Briggs Mountain Patrol, their faces covered by white masks, their eyes by goggles, and their heads by hoods.

Red currents ran over the Freezer Alchemist's left knee, but a sharp hand collided with the back of his head and all was darkness.

.

Roy didn't know how his body was reacting, or if it was reacting at all. He didn't know if he _had_ a body.

He shouldn't have been able to know the sight before him was real, too, and a desperate part of him pleaded hysterically for his mind to wake up from this nightmare even infinity couldn't encompass.

" _Long time no see. Do you still remember me?"_

But he'd seen too much death in his life not to know when death was reality.

Riza was dead. His closest friend; the most breathtakingly devoted and loyal and protective and reliable person he'd met in his life; the woman who had chosen her career and dreams and goals and the path she would take through life based on what would best support him and sacrificed her personal desires to live that life for his sake; the woman he loved more than anything or anyone else in this world; the woman he would have proposed to years ago if their positions hadn't made having any relationship but friendship a potential problem; his closest confidante and most trusted companion and his most dependable source of support and the person he'd known he could count on the most to be there for him no matter what happened, even if it meant shooting him in the back to keep him from walking the wrong path, was dead.

" _So, you've decided to take this path after all, even after what you went through in Ishval."_

" _Yes, sir."_

But even knowing this was reality, it was still almost impossible to think of what had happened that way, or any way at all, and he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining he was having those thoughts, or any thoughts at all. Thoughts like these, all possible thoughts, couldn't define what had just happened. _Nothing_ could define what had just happened, and nothing would be able to begin to the most infinitesimal amount for all eternity.

" _Well. I must have sounded pretty childish, huh?"_

" _Not at all. I think a child has the best dreams."_

Nothing could define Roy Mustang any longer, if there was a person named Roy Mustang and he wasn't imagining that as well. The enormity of what had just happened was so vast trying to take it in had shattered him into so many pieces no one would be able to count them even if that eternity was real and there was no limit to the time a person could spend counting them, never mind gather them up and put him back together. He had become something that was emptier than the void now.

And there would never be a reason for him to be put back together. His dreams of creating a descending pyramid of protection were just as much of a joke as his dreams of contributing something that would improve Amestris by becoming a State Alchemist had been. If he couldn't protect his closest subordinate, his belief tiny humans could protect those directly under them in a descending chain had been a drugged up hallucination.

" _I'm a childish dreamer, not a tough, down-in-the-dirt soldier willing to do whatever it takes to lead his or her troops to victory. How did_ I _inspire such loyalty?"_

" _It's because you're a dreamer, and not an amoral pragmatist."_

There was no reason for him to be Roy Mustang anymore. His life had been a worthless lie since the day he'd been born. He could achieve nothing by existing on this planet.

So he lay there, if he wasn't imagining being in a fully lying position again, and didn't move, or think, or feel, or know what was going on, not knowing for sure he wasn't doing any of these things, not knowing for sure he'd be able to know he was or wasn't doing any of these things for the rest of his life, if he was alive.

" _Do you think that world will be filled with happiness?"_

" _Why were we ordered here to do this? How did we manage to kill citizens when we should be the ones protecting them? I thought alchemy was meant to be used to protect people. Why is it being used to kill them instead?"_

" _Let's go. The war is over now."_

" _Outside of me, maybe. But the nightmare that led me to lose countless lives will never end. I'll carry it within as long as I live."_

" _That would be an abuse of power. I'd have to shoot you in the back."_

" _Can I trust you to help me think of an idea, too, Lieutenant?"_

 _"You ought to extend me the same courtesies you extended your other subordinates today, sir. You know the answer to that."_

 _"I am. I'm asking you because I don't want to take you for granted, and count on your support without asking if you're willing to give it to me first."_

" _If that's the case, yes, sir, you can."_

Was he remembering the times he'd shared with Riza, or was he imagining them too? Was he imagining her standing next to him behind his desk as he rested in his chair, exhausted after a stressful meeting with a self-interested military officer, giving him silent support with her presence; her encouraging smile; her standing beside him with her gun at the ready so she was prepared to shoot at the slightest evidence he was in danger; her saluting him with exemplary military deference; her sitting in a chair as he talked about the latest secret code he'd developed and giving it as harsh criticism as she could to try to ensure he made it into the best code it could be; her standing before his desk and lecturing him about the importance of doing his paperwork and not leaving his subordinates to ensure it was finished with a mixture of patience and irritation, not showing any anger even though she'd lectured him, scolded him, or something else about not being lazy countless times before?

Roy didn't know. What he knew, if he wasn't imagining everything in existence, was he _couldn't_ know, and couldn't _be_ , any further, and had no reason to be, and never would again.

So he lay there, or imagined it, and did nothing but look at the blackened and ruined pieces of Riza's body as memories of Riza played in his mind as clearly as though they were reality and his existence rested in innumerable shards around him.

He might have been lying there for millennia, or for no more than a second, if he was lying there at all, when something so faint he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining it for an additional reason stirred inside him, and then he was aware he had a body again, and he was lying on a metal staircase, and he was shaking beyond extremely violently, and tears were running down his cheeks, and he was a person named Roy Mustang and wasn't imagining his memories and thoughts.

No. It wasn't true there was no longer any reason for him to be Roy Mustang. There was one thing he could accomplish, and he wouldn't be nothing until he'd achieved it.

And with that knowledge, a blinding, searing hatred so hot it should have melted him in an instant, a raging fire burning so fiercely it was like his body, mind, and soul were the living heart of a star, spread through him and consumed everything that made him up everywhere throughout him completely.

He pulled Riza's face to his and pressed his lips to hers, then put her ruined head down at his side and pushed himself to his feet.

He looked back at Fullmetal, who was on his knees with a pile of throw up in front of him, and Alphonse, who was kneeling beside his brother and shaking violently as he was, and Frank Archer and the other soldiers.

"Stay here," he ordered them. "I'll deal with Soyuz."

.

Edward's head jerked up, a violent chill running up his spine, terror consuming him, all awareness this was his fault, Hawkeye was dead because he'd traveled here to try to regain his and Al's bodies and dragged her into their quest through his carelessness; of the horrific sight of Hawkeye's bleeding and charred corpse strewn over the staircase and Mustang; of the memories of the nightmarish thing that should have been his mother seeing the pieces of her body created; and all sickness, moving to the side.

 _No._

But once he saw Mustang's face, Ed knew beyond a doubt he was right.

Mustang's tear-streaked face no longer appeared human. His eyes looked as if he didn't know who Ed and Al and Archer and the soldiers were, and though his teeth weren't clenched and he didn't look more expressively angry or hateful, his visage made him appear to be a wild beast, tensed to pounce.

"Mustang," he breathed. "Don't do it."

Archer drew his gun and pointed it at the Colonel. "Do as the Fullmetal Alchemist says, Colonel," Archer said. "If you murder a subordinate officer and don't allow him or her to stand trial for his or her crimes, you'll be a criminal yourself, and I'll have no choice but to report you to Central. You'll be arrested and dishonorably discharged or executed. Don't be a fool."

"I don't care," the Colonel replied.

Fury consumed Ed. Fury at himself, fury at Soyuz, fury at the Colonel, fury at the Truth for attacking them with the most sadistic strike yet. After weeks of living in terror for Winry and Granny, the Lieutenant's death was far too much for his capacity to feel, even though it and the sight of her ravaged body parts had been seared as deeply into his mind as Mom's death and Nina's death had been. He hadn't lost the ability to experience emotion; he was just much more exhausted than it should have been possible for a person to be and too overloaded by sensation to fully experience feelings. But hearing Mustang say he was willing to throw away his entire life and follow his hate was far too much for Ed to take. He'd had enough of not letting his emotions rule him.

He rose to his feet.

"So you're giving up!?" he yelled at Mustang. "Is that it!? You're going to cast away all your responsibilities to Amestris and your fellow soldiers!? Even what you were ordered to do in Ishval wasn't enough to convince you to resign from the military and abandon your nation and your comrades, but you're willing to throw them aside for _hatred!?_ I've known you're a lazy bastard who places duty and military conduct above human decency for years, but I didn't think you were slime like Scar! And I don't think you are now! The Mustang I know _cares_ , and looks out for his fellows, and is willing to risk or give anything to provide for them!"

Now that Edward was thinking about this at the same time he was thinking about how much he loathed the Colonel, he was forced to acknowledge what he'd known for a long time but had never wanted to admit to himself. That was the real reason Ed disliked Mustang. Spending time with the Colonel was like looking in a mirror and seeing his flaws and weaknesses, and Edward loathed that.

But that his reasons for disliking Mustang were groundless weren't important now.

"You've watched out for your fellow soldiers and tried to take their share of the danger onto your shoulders the majority of the time we've been on missions together!" Ed went on. "You're not an apathetic murderer! You have a kind heart, and your hands _save_ , not _destroy!_ "

Mustang took a step forwards. "I'm not going to take the time to argue with you," he spoke back. "Soyuz will get away.

"But you're wrong about me. I don't protect anyone. I can't. I dreamed of rising to the top," Ed's eyes widened, "and creating a system of government that would enable everyone to use their limited skills to protect those around them, but it was a fairy tale. I couldn't protect the person who depended on me the most. I've lived my life in vain, so there's no reason not to discard its meaningless trappings.

"Now get out of my way. That's an order."

Mustang ran down the staircase.

Edward moved to block him, but then a shot rang out.

The Colonel fell to the stairs, blood pooling under his side.

Edward spun on Archer, who was walking up to Mustang, in sick horror and fury.

"Fϋhrer Bradley personally ordered me to incapacitate Colonel Mustang if he stepped out of line," Archer spoke. Mustang snapped his fingers and flames exploded over his injury, the Colonel attempting to cauterize it, but Archer knelt in front of the Colonel and removed his reactive glove, and the flames died. "I believe this qualifies."

He reached into a pocket of his uniform, took out handcuffs, and bound Mustang's hands behind his back. Ed wanted to move to stop Archer, but he knew he couldn't. If he did, Winry might be hurt or killed.

Archer got up, took a piece of paper out of another pocket, and unfolded it, revealing a letter with the Fϋhrer's seal. He showed it to the other soldiers. "I've also been ordered to assume command of any soldiers he's leading should I be required to incapacitate him during a mission. That means I'm now in charge of this operation. Everyone but Sergeants Grayson, Tillis, and Navair, return to the base of this tower and cordon it off. Grayson and Tillis, with me. Navair, administer first aid to Mustang, watch him and the Elrics, and report to me everything they discuss if they engage in conversation."

Archer ran up the stairs into the glass walled office, two soldiers at his side, one climbed up to Mustang, knelt at his side, and took out a first aid kit, and the other soldiers sprinted in the opposite direction.

The fury drained away, and Edward collapsed to his knees.

The sight of Hawkeye's ruined portions was in countless ways immeasurably more horrible than the sight of Mom's deformed dead body had been, since Hawkeye had been alive just minutes ago. But Ed was no longer even fully aware of her blackened remnants.

It had happened again. He'd gotten someone else killed, and this time, it had been someone who had called him friend for around four years. Someone who had trusted he wouldn't hurt her for much of that time as much as she'd trusted Mustang, Falman, Breda, Havoc, and Fuery wouldn't; someone who had devoted numerous hours of her time to trying to help Edward and Al realize their dreams; someone who had supported Ed and Al countless times over the years in anything they needed aid with; someone who had tried to make the Eastern Command Center something akin to a home for them.

Additionally, Ed had emotionally and mentally injured the Colonel so horrifically he'd tried to cast aside everything he'd lived for for years of his life for his hatred.

They'd actually succeeded at something again? How could Edward have been stupid enough to think that? How could Ed have been so incredibly idiotic he'd smiled?

And again, Edward had brought this about through an inability to accept the truth. An inability that was immeasurably _worse_ than cowardice, for he'd been willingly living in denial of this truth for years fully aware he was doing it, and had thought it was the right choice. Hawkeye wasn't just dead and the Colonel hadn't just attempted to ruin himself because Edward hadn't listened to Mustang's and everyone else's criticism of his methods of problem solving and he'd forced Mustang and the Lieutenant to fix his mistakes. Hawkeye was dead and Mustang had tried to destroy himself because Ed was searching for a way to give Al back his body.

Ed thought about rubbing the top of Alphonse's head, but decided against it. He hadn't rubbed Al's head once since they'd left Dublith. He'd known it wouldn't help at all since they had no way of saving Winry and Granny themselves, so there hadn't been a point to doing it any longer. There was even less of a point now. Al had been pushed too beyond his emotional limits to be fully hit by Hawkeye's death and Mustang's recklessness himself, but Edward knew it had still wounded Al terribly, so Alphonse was now even further beyond any comfort.

From being touched, and from words. Edward wasn't even going to try to think of something to say. He knew there was nothing.

Al _should_ have been an only child. Maybe if he had been, he'd have a flesh and blood body and be happy now.

Edward hung his head, unable to look at Mustang. "I'm sorry," Edward's voice cracked as he spoke to the Colonel. "This is all my fault. Hawkeye is dead because I was careless, and pulled her into mine and Al's problems. You were right about me all along, and I never believed you." Remembering the Colonel's words to him the night McDougal had warped everything caused Ed to remember there had been something unidentifiable in Mustang's expression when Alphonse had questioned if the Colonel would help them thwart High Command. Now Edward knew what it must have been. Mustang must have seen the Freezer's revelations as his opportunity to become Fϋhrer. "I know it's much too late now, and I don't blame you if you hate me, too, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Ed knew Mustang was aware of what had gone unsaid because of Navair's presence.

In the office, Archer talked into the phone of a radio, obviously tuned to a general line. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer from Central. I am now assuming command of Table City's military and military police. Your previous commanding officer, Major Peter Soyuz, murdered a lower ranking military officer and attempted to assassinate a superior officer, Colonel Roy Mustang. He is to be arrested on sight and shot if he resists. Should any soldier in this city fail to comply with these orders, he or she will be charged guilty of aiding and abetting a criminal guilty of murder and insubordination and arrested as well. Am I understood?"

Mustang's voice was empty when he replied, and Edward's stomach twisted violently. "Better late than never. Furthermore, I'm as much to blame as you are for the other matter. I'm the one who opened the door for you, and encouraged you to chase after its possibility."

"That doesn't make this any less our fault," Alphonse sounded at least as exhausted and emotionally handicapped as Ed was, and he was looking down, his shaking subsiding. "We're the ones who made the choice to pursue it."

Al turned his head to face Edward. "Brother," he spoke. "If pursuing that possibility means people are going to die and we're going to hurt people so badly they want to throw away their lives, I don't want it back."

Ed's insides twisted violently.

Could there be _any_ room left to doubt Al hated him now?

But he felt no horror, much less horror that surmounted the word. How could he feel any of those things at how Al was thinking this way, when Edward extremely highly doubted he wanted to get their bodies back himself now?

He should have found it _impossible_ to believe he was thinking this even after McDougal's and Greed's revelations. Extremely highly doubting he wanted to get their bodies back meant he extremely highly doubted he wanted Al to regain the ability to feel and sleep and cry, and he never could have believed he could think something so inexpressibly revolting. Furthermore, he'd promised Al he'd give him back his body, or at least help him regain it, and extremely highly doubting he wanted to get their bodies back meant he extremely highly doubted he wanted to fulfill that promise as well. And it meant he extremely highly doubted he wanted to fulfill his end of a promise they'd shared, for Alphonse had promised the same thing. It should have been impossible for Ed to _think_ , never mind believe he was thinking it, and that he was thinking it should have doubled him over retching violently forever. But in light of that they'd murdered Hawkeye by searching for a way to regain their bodies and forcing her to wipe up the mess they'd made by doing so, he couldn't believe he _couldn't_ be thinking this. Al was his brother, and not wanting Alphonse to be happy again and to fulfill the promise Ed had made and they'd shared was anathema to everything that composed the whole of Edward Elric, but Alphonse's happiness didn't outweigh someone else's life.

But Alphonse's happiness was still incomprehensibly important. Ed extremely highly doubted he wanted to get their bodies back now, but he couldn't be totally sure they should give up on their search.

He was certain he'd been wrong when he'd thought he'd learned the true meaning of responsibility and what people's lives genuinely were the night the Freezer had told them what shape Amestris was in, though. Even then he hadn't had the barest clue. He'd never thought their search for a way to get their bodies back could cost someone his or her life. He'd thought of their search as something that just involved them and couldn't truly affect anyone else or the rest of reality.

But he knew now he couldn't have been more wrong. Their quest _could_ affect others, and the rest of the world, in among the worst ways possible. Further, now that he was aware it could, he could see how absolutely _stupid_ he'd been when he'd been thinking differently. He'd seen them and their dreams as existing in a bubble, separate from the rest of reality, and because of that he also hadn't fully seen there _was_ a reality around them with completely living, breathing people in it with the same ability for joy and suffering he and Al possessed. But that had been insane. They were part of the world around them, and there was a world around them. Because of that, their words and actions had an influence on what happened to the people in that reality, and to that reality itself, and as much of an influence as anyone else's.

He'd never been genuinely aware of that until now, though. He'd thought they could do as they pleased in their quest and hadn't feared it harming anyone but himself and Al.

He'd learned responsibility and what living people were? He might as well have never heard the words.

He was an abomination. He had no justification calling himself an alchemist. He wasn't even a baby. He was a fetus with a mind that hadn't fully developed.

They'd learned, yes. But if there had been any belief in his mind they might have things to be proud of, this proved he was right they didn't beyond all doubt. So what if they'd taken on burdens and accepted inhumanity most wouldn't? Their perceptions had been so twisted then they hadn't truly known what burdens and inhumanity _were_.

And now Edward didn't know if he could believe they'd learned to accept the truth even after they'd murdered Nina. Their determination to defy the flow of the One and the All had murdered Hawkeye as their fear of the truth McDougal had shown them had murdered Nina. So was there any difference at all between their fear of McDougal's revelations and their quest to get their bodies back?

Maybe all they'd learned was to let others share their burdens.

But Ed was too exhausted and overloaded to truly hate himself further, or to be revolted or feel guilty or anything else completely. Hawkeye was dead, and he had murdered her. Because he had, Mustang had tried to wreck his life. Edward couldn't take it anymore.

Even though he knew he had to more than at any time before, because he'd learned more of what responsibility meant now.

But did he even know what the lives of others and responsibility were _now_? Or would he murder someone else?

Would he murder Teacher because she had to wipe up one of his messes, or just because he'd gotten her involved in the struggle to launch a coup?

Because, Edward now knew in ways he hadn't before, Teacher _might_ die as a result of their treason. Until today, Ed hadn't fully been aware Al or his other companions who aided him in dangerous endeavors could die. Intellectually, he'd known it was possible, but it hadn't fully felt real, or anything that would happen to anyone he knew, even after Nina had been murdered and Winry and Granny had been arrested. But now that the sight of Hawkeye's mutilated, burnt corpse had been seared into the uttermost depths of his brain, the possibility Teacher or Sig would be killed during their fight was all too immediate.

If she died because she was battling the government and the Homunculi that, as well, would be Ed's responsibility. He was the reason she was a part of this, and it was far too late to convince her to back out now.

Why was he _still_ so determined not to kill people? He was now a killer three times over. He'd murdered Mom, and Nina, and now Hawkeye. Was there truly that much of a difference between unintentional murder and intentional murder when he could be so careless and irresponsible he killed others without meaning to _three_ times and didn't learn from the two previous deaths?

But there was. No matter how irresponsible he was or how horrific the cost of his mistakes was, that still didn't justify being willing to kill another person.

 _You don't believe that. If you did, you'd be wholly certain you should give up your quest for your bodies._

That wasn't true. He wasn't fully certain he should give up their quest for their bodies because that would condemn Al to the torment he was living for the rest of his life. To continue to pursue the possibility they could get their bodies back might murder more people and reduce the lives of other people they didn't murder to rubble, but the alternative was wrong as well. Additionally, Ed didn't know if he was truly aware what responsibility was to any extent now. He wasn't certain he should give up their quest because he didn't know _what_ the right, responsible choice was, or even if there was one, not because he didn't believe murder was wrong.

Al looked away from him, clearly believing his older brother wasn't going to say anything back, but Ed chose to speak. It wouldn't help, but there was no point not telling Alphonse Ed understood.

"I understand," he said.

Alphonse didn't talk back, and Edward sighed and looked down at the staircase.

What should they do? Should they condemn themselves, should he condemn _Al_ , or should they continue to seek a means of getting their bodies back, even knowing the risks?

Ed had utterly no idea.

Should they attempt to convince Teacher to back out of this, as futile as it–

No. Edward at least knew the answer to that, not that it mattered. That was partially new terror, and worse, for Al and Teacher and Sig and the other people he knew who were his companions in dangerous efforts. Hawkeye's death proved even people as capable as her or Teacher couldn't live through anything, but they could still take care of themselves. Teacher wouldn't be in any greater danger now because Hawkeye had died than she'd been in before Hawkeye's death. Furthermore, if he thought like that he'd be so terrified, or worse, for Al he'd lose sight of how well Al could keep himself alive, and that would be a betrayal of Al. Edward couldn't act on those feelings, and he had to bear them as he was bearing his terror, and worse, for Winry and Granny.

Al must have seen something in Ed's expression when he'd been thinking about the risks Teacher was talking, for he gave Edward a look Ed knew meant Al wanted his older brother to know he felt similarly. Al was able to deal with Hawkeye's death well enough to know that much; he had to bear this new terror, and worse. Thank goodness.

Edward nodded slightly back to acknowledge he understood the look, but he said nothing. Even if talking about Teacher and Sig wouldn't have exposed them, there was no point in countless ways. Ed just sat there silently.

After an unknown amount of time passed, Archer spoke, "Well done," into the radio phone. He exited the office and descended the stairwell. "Table City soldiers arrested Soyuz. I'll send someone to purchase a casket for us to take Lieutenant Hawkeye's body parts home in, and then we're done at this tower."

Edward got to his feet, ignoring how heavy his flesh limbs felt. He wanted to question what was going to happen to Mustang now, but he knew Archer didn't know the answer to that. "Then we're almost done in Milos too," he told Archer. "Al and I achieved what we needed to do here. All that's left is for us to say farewell to someone in the valley," Archer's eyebrow rose, "And we'll be ready to leave." He glared at Archer, challenging him to order them not to. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Is the person you want to say goodbye to Julia Crichton?" Archer asked.

"Yes," Al put in, standing up. "Could you please let us see her one more time? She's in Cretan territory. We don't have the authority to turn her over to Creta there."

"I know," Archer answered. "Go ahead, then. Creta can't make too big of a deal about you crossing the border when their own people were recently guilty of the same crime. Further, we cannot hand Miss Crichton to them, so there's nothing we can do to defuse the international incident other than continue to tell Creta she descended to the valley floor.

"But be discreet."

Ed suppressed the urge to look at Hawkeye's separated corpse, or at the Colonel.

"I know," Edward spoke. "Trust me. No one is going to need to tell me to do that again."

.

The Milosian led them into a large cavern on the near side of the underground water source with a tapestry hanging in front of the back wall showing a golden bird at the center of a design of purple, light blue, and red in the center of the tapestry, and a circular wooden table a distance into the cavern in front of the flag.

Julia was sitting at the top of two stone steps descending to a lower portion of the cavern to the right of the table relative to the direction Al was facing, wearing the same garments he'd seen her in the day they'd arrived here, the sole difference being a primarily purple and gold bracelet on her right wrist, and Miranda was standing to the left of the table. No one else was in the cavern.

Julia smiled a false smile worriedly when she saw them, and Alphonse's heart ached at how much worry was on her face, terror at what their return probably meant in her eyes, and all the emotions she was trying to keep from her expression. Miranda's face became a mask.

Julia got to her feet and walked quickly over to them, but then an amount of the worry and terror and the other things she was feeling vanished and her expression became concerned. "What's wrong, Ed?"

Even this exhausted and sick and emotionally handicapped, Alphonse wished he could smile a genuine smile. Julia wasn't just exceptional, she was wonderful. The day before yesterday, she'd discovered her brother had been murdered; the salvation she'd believed in were the results of, or brought about, unimaginable abominations; and the humanity and the reality she knew were illusions in countless ways, most of them too horrible to describe. In addition, she believed their presence here probably meant that salvation she still desired had been denied her, and for all she knew she and the people she was devoted to would continue to go through each day living in terror they would die before it ended, and of the stronger countries whose oppression and conflicts they were imprisoned between, for years. Yet in spite of all this, the first things she'd spoken to them were words of concern.

Al had never known anyone that considerate.

Where had he gone wrong? How had he become so abhorrent he was capable of wounding someone like Julia how they were going to hurt her when Brother revealed they'd all but completely eradicated the Milosians' chances of obtaining the Star?

"It's nothing that involves you," Brother replied. Al knew his brother hadn't forgotten Granny's words, but they probably weren't going to be seeing Julia again for a long time after today. Al was determined to return here and see her again when he had the chance, and Alphonse knew his brother was aware of this and knew they would see Julia again in the future, but Brother knew that would probably be a long time from now. Sharing their burdens with Julia _would_ cause more harm than it prevented when she wasn't going to be with them to aid them.

"That's not true," Julia responded. "You two are my friends. I know this may be the last time I'll see you, but so long as you're in Milos, whatever hurts you involves me. If you don't want to tell me, I'm all right with that, but you don't need to feel you shouldn't tell me because you think I'm not part of it."

"There's still no reason for you to worry about it," Brother spoke.

"I'll worry more if I don't know what's bothering you," Julia said back.

Brother sighed. Then they had to tell her. "We never got into why we came to Milos," his brother spoke. "We came here on a self-serving journey to research the alchemy Atlas was practicing because we believed it might give us a method of getting back the bodies we lost when we attempted human transmutation. We've been looking for a way to regain our bodies for years. Two friends of ours," Al was too exhausted to feel anything about his brother referring to the Colonel as a friend, "followed us here because I was careless when we arrived, and because of that, and because we're on this quest, one of them was murdered." Julia's eyes widened. "And the other gave up and tried to cast away his life to avenge her out of hatred, and has been arrested." Brother didn't add the friend who had given up might have been able to improve the lives of the Milosians if he hadn't. This wasn't the time for that. She deserved to know, but they'd have to tell her about it another time.

"So now you believe you shouldn't fulfill your dreams yourself," Julia had an understanding expression, "Don't you?"

"Yes," Alphonse replied. He didn't know whether he should be able to believe he was thinking this way, and he felt so guilty transcending language he was capable of wanting Brother to keep his automail arm and leg, and of wanting to break his promise to Brother, and Al's end of a promise they'd shared, he wished in a way the term couldn't encompass he didn't have any senses in his armor body, but his course was clear. He'd never be able to accept _this_ Truth, that Brother needed to live incomplete and deformed for the rest of his life, but he had to take this path anyway. "I don't want my body back now.

"But it's not as bad as it sounds. Brother and I have been through a lot since we learned what's happening in Amestris. We were already hurting so greatly when our friend died we can't feel as lousy as we might have about what we caused," even though Al needed to say this for Julia's sake, it still felt like one of the worst possible betrayals of the Lieutenant to talk about how they were taking Hawkeye's murder that way, "Or having to give up our dreams, at present."

"But that won't last," Julia spoke. "I'm so sorry. You two are very noble." Al suppressed the urge to cringe. "Maybe it's impossible to regain things lost to the other side, but you could have touched the Amestrian nationwide Star with ease at any time and tried. Yet you didn't. I agree there are things worth giving one's life for, but I still recognize how noble it is to feel differently. No one deserves to suffer, but it's so sad to see people like you feel you need to throw out your dreams."

"To be honest," Alphonse replied, "We weren't fully sure using the Stone to get our bodies back was wrong." Julia's eyes widened, and Alphonse experienced relief. At least he didn't have to worry about whether he could use the Philosopher's Stone to return Brother his body any longer. Now that he wasn't going to get their bodies back, that burden was moot. "We feel it's wrong to sacrifice others for our own happiness, but the souls in the Stone may be beyond salvation, if they're even still alive. We can't be sure it's wrong to use people when they're already doomed no matter what we do.

"But we're convinced it might be wrong enough we don't want to see the Stone used now, and we don't have any doubts transmuting a new one is amoral." He didn't want to be the one to tell her, but it was best she hear it from him. From what she'd said before they'd parted, she felt a stronger connection to him than to Brother.

"That's why we unraveled the secret of the holy land, and made it mostly certain you won't be able to transmute a Philosopher's Stone or find the one that may be hidden here." How could he have been such a revolting idiot he'd thought of that as a success?

He wished he could tell Julia about the portion of the map on her body, but this was a very bad time for that. She deserved to know this, too, but as with what the Colonel might have been able to do for the Milosians, they'd have to tell her another time.

Countless emotions passed over Julia's face and through her eyes, but then she looked down at the bracelet and her expression firmed. Miranda's face stayed a mask. "I thought as much," Julia spoke. "In that case, I'm coming with you when you return to Amestris proper."

Shock detonated through Al.

Miranda said nothing. Julia must have already discussed this with her.

His brother's face showed shock of his own, but then much of it vanished. "That's not an option," Brother replied. "Soldiers other than our two friends followed us here, and one of them outranks me. That officer will never give you permission to set foot in Amestris, and if you do, he'll arrest you and turn you over to Creta. I don't know why, but Creta requested Amestris give you to them when you were arrested before." Julia's eyes widened. "Additionally, even if we could take you into Amestris, you must know we wouldn't. We didn't go to all the trouble of preventing you from using a Milosian Stone to help you get your hands on one of our Stones."

"Al can smuggle me across in his armor," Julia responded, and Al started. He'd never thought of the concept of someone riding inside him before. The concept was disturbing, but Alphonse knew he needed to adjust to it. Carrying people in his armor could be useful in the future. "Furthermore, I'm fully aware you're not going to help me get ahold of one of your Stars. I don't want you to. All I want you to do is to let me help you fight the Homunculi and your government, because that's the easiest way for me to get within the vicinity of a Star. When I come across a Star in the process of aiding you, I'll acquire it myself.

"I'm also aware you're not even willing to do that. However, if you don't, I'll try to cross the border myself," Al had known that was coming when she'd spoken she knew they weren't going to help her attain a Star, but hearing it still caused him to feel even sicker. Brother glared at Julia furiously, "And search out a Star on my own, regardless of the risks. Do you want me to do that, when I'll be safer crossing the border and looking for a Star with you, and when you'll have a better chance of keeping me from obtaining a Star if you're with me because you'll be able to keep an eye on me and try to restrict my actions? I know I'm blackmailing you two, and I'm sorry I'm saying this, but I have no choice. I have to get my hands on a Star. There's no other way for me to protect my people. And traveling with you two is now my best chance of doing so."

To Al's complete disgust, there was a part of him that wanted to acquiesce. If Julia came with them, he wouldn't have to wait for what would probably be a long time to continue to spend time with her and learn more about her, and he wanted to wait even less now after what the first thing Julia had spoken after they'd come into this cavern before saying anything else had been. He'd never met anyone like Julia, and he didn't want to be without the company of someone like her.

But he violently shoved that part of him away. He wasn't appalled he could think and feel like that shouldn't have been, since he was capable of not wanting Brother to get his body back and he was as selfish and apathetic as Tucker and the one called Father. But that didn't make thinking and feeling that way any less wrong. If Julia came with them, she wouldn't just be a danger to herself. She'd be leaving behind the people who cared for her and supported her through her torture at a time when that was one of the last things she could afford to do.

"Don't do it, Julia," Al urged her. "Not because you shouldn't resort to blackmail. Not even because you shouldn't use the Star. Because you'll be bringing horrific torment upon yourself. After two days ago, you need Miranda and your other friends. You told us that yourself. You've endured everything you've been through because you've had them, and that's why you can make it through finding out your brother was murdered and the rest. If you leave them behind now, you'll be giving up the reasons you can make it. You'll put yourself through a much worse nightmare. Please, don't do that to yourself."

Countless emotions passed over Julia's face, but then it showed the determination he'd seen before.

As well as something else, something Al couldn't identify.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me," Julia said. "My life belongs to the people of Milos. My suffering is unimportant. I'd do this even if leaving Miranda and the others meant I'd emotionally injure myself so badly it would destroy my mind. Just as there are things worth dying for, there are things worth going through any amount of pain for. The power of the Star is worth any pain as well as death. If I don't have that strength, my people will continue to live in poverty, and continue to die. I want to stay here, and receive the love my friends and people are offering, but I can't. Everyone here is depending on me to acquire the strength to deliver them. If that means exposing myself much further to my grief and the reality you two showed me, so be it. I'm not staying here. One way or another, I'm retrieving one of Amestris' Stars."

Brother ground his teeth, and Al shook. If that was how Julia felt, arguing further would be as pointless now as it had been when they'd tried to convince the Milosians not to use the Stone. Arguing had been pointless from the beginning.

Their search for their bodies had done more than murder Hawkeye and cause Mustang to give up. It had yanked a wonderful girl who should have known nothing but happiness in her life away from the people she needed to be cared for by at a time she needed it most.

No.

Please, no.

Furthermore, it might have done worse than pull her away from the people she needed at a time she needed it. If she came with them she might be ki–

No. He couldn't think like that. He knew where that path would take him. He'd lose faith in Brother's ability to stand on his legs. No matter what happened, Al could never let himself fall that far.

"Then hurry up and pack up," Brother snarled. "And say your goodbyes. But don't fool yourself into believing you're going to be able to outwit us and return here with a Stone. We're not stupid. Have the decency to do us a favor to make up for blackmailing us and accept you're throwing yourself into madness in vain."

"You know I won't do that," Julia met his eyes. "Or you'd have said that as an argument to attempt to convince me to stay in Milos.

"I've already bid farewell to everyone, and I have everything I need. I've been preparing for this possibility since yesterday, when an automail engineer gave me a bracelet a little girl named Karina made for me with Tia, a teenager who died from wounds she took while looking through the garbage. That taught me to stop second-guessing about the Star."

Alphonse wanted to say it should have taught her something different, but he knew it wouldn't reach Julia. He was done with not knowing what to say, but he knew this time there was truly nothing that could be said.

He wasn't going to ask how they could have been so foolish as to listen to Mustang's encouragement and set out to regain their bodies. He knew the answer to that. They'd still been too cowardly to accept the Truth then. But how could they not have seen their journey as a severe danger to others after they'd murdered _Nina_!? They'd known then they were still craven infants who rejected reality because it wasn't the happy crayon doodle born of their imaginations. And they'd known for years they weren't accepting the Truth by wanting to regain the bodies they'd used to have. So why hadn't they realized their quest was wrong then? How could they have done this to Hawkeye, Mustang, and Julia?

Teacher had been wrong. Even then they hadn't learned to accept the Truth.

And now he had no guarantees they'd learned to accept the Truth this time. The two times they'd thought they had in the past they'd been wrong, so there was no way he could believe they'd learned this time any more than they had the other times.

Mom must regret she'd given birth to Alphonse.

Whether they'd learned to accept the Truth this time or not, though, that didn't change he still needed to accept it. And his inability to know how they couldn't have seen they were endangering others after they'd murdered Nina didn't change they had to take Julia with them, or she might get killed or imprisoned in Creta when she tried to sneak into Amestris herself. So thinking about this now was meaningless, and he shouldn't be thinking about it.

He should be saying and doing what he could to try to make the path Julia had chosen less agonizing to walk.

He forced himself to stop shaking.

"You won't be alone," Al told Julia. "I'll be there for you every step of the way while you're with us. I know I can never replace Miranda, or any of the other Milosians, and I'm not going to try to, but I'll be whatever I can be to you if you want me to. You _won't_ have to confront your grief and this reality by yourself once we leave Milos. I'll be at your side, and if you want me to, I'll carry as much of your pain for you as you need me to carry, no matter how much it is."

Julia forced another fake smile. "Thank you. But I _don't_ want you to do any of that. Not when you and Ed are carrying around your own pain. I need to become stronger. I'll find a way to get by."

Why had he even wanted his body back? He hadn't been deformed in body until he'd tried human transmutation, but he'd been deformed in soul from the instant he'd been conceived.

"You're welcome," Al spoke. "Then I won't say or do anything. But I'll still be there for you to talk to or seek anything else from if you decide to. I can't turn away from someone else's suffering because I'm suffering. I'm the one whose suffering is irrelevant when compared to someone else's. I brought most of it on myself. So my suffering means nothing compared to someone else's. It wouldn't even if I hadn't caused so much of it; there's no point to being able to carry torture if all the torture you carry is your own. I don't care how much heavier my burdens become if I carry your pain in addition to mine. So could you please leave yourself open to the possibility of letting me support you?

"If you won't do it for yourself, could you please do it for me? I don't want to witness you hurting alone."

Julia was silent for a few seconds. Then she responded, "I'll open myself to the possibility."

Thank goodness.

Julia looked at Miranda, who gave her an encouraging smile, and Brother turned a furious face on Miranda. Emotion vanished from Miranda's face.

"You tried to deny us our future," Miranda said. "Be thankful all we're doing is blackmailing you when we could be shooting you."

His brother ground his teeth.

Al didn't want Julia to come with them, but since she was, he wanted to leave quickly himself. The longer this went on, the worse it would make things for Brother.

"Since you're ready," Alphonse addressed Julia exhaustedly, "So are we."

.

Julia sat across from Ed, sleeping on his back, and the sitting up Al in the empty train car as it traveled under the night sky in the direction of Central, the capital of Amestris.

The Amestrian Lieutenant Colonel who had assumed command of Ed, Frank Archer, had been willing to give Ed and Al a train car to themselves, so Julia had been able to climb out of Al and sit down on something comfortable.

She still couldn't believe she was doing this.

She'd thought she was done second-guessing, but now that she had left Milos behind and was far deeper in the territory of an enemy country than she'd traveled before in her life with no one she could trust nearby save two friends she'd made two days ago, she had become so uncertain she wasn't able to keep herself from doubting she was doing the right thing by seeking something made of living humans again.

But that wasn't why she couldn't believe she was doing this. She was doubting the path she'd chosen, but she could believe she was walking it. The people of Milos were her life. All her being existed for them; they needed the Star, and she knew generally where to find one, so it was easy to believe she was on a journey to retrieve one for them.

What she couldn't believe was she'd left Milos behind.

With the exception of a small minority who had despised or hated her because of who her parents had been, the people of Milos had raised her for over four years as if she was no different than anyone else born in Milos, given her food and drink and a cave to sleep in without asking her to pay them any money for any of it, sent instructors to give her private lessons for free to make it easier for her to understand the curriculum of the schoolhouse they'd let her attend, let her work to earn what money they had to provide at any job she was interested in and paid her the same wages anyone else in her position deserved despite who she was, and the Milosians who weren't alchemists had even encouraged her in her endeavors to steal alchemy tomes from Creta and Amestris when she climbed the cliffs and learn alchemy from other Milosian alchemists she had befriended. She loved all the people of Milos with all her heart, even the ones who didn't like her, and until two days ago, they and the land of Milos had been her entire reality with the exception of Ashleigh, who she'd been aware might be dead but she knew might still be alive and out there somewhere. Now that she knew he was dead, they _were_ her whole reality.

Yet now she was going to be living without them for an indefinite amount of time, perhaps months. It was for their sake, but she still couldn't believe the next time she woke up it wasn't going to be within easy reach of one or more of them.

It was far easier to believe than most of the rest of the things she had to believe now, though.

Alchemists could transmute artificial humans and those artificial humans could be transmuted immortal bodies. The planet was God and a nervous system. An artificial human had created a single mammoth Star and it rested below the ground this train was driving over. An artificial human could fashion a soul body on the scale of Amestris. Amestris had been founded and expanded to transmute a special Star.

Everyone in Xerxes had been taken into a special Star, and she was inside an almost complete or complete transmutation circle the size of Amestris that was being dug or had been dug to transmute the countless millions within it into pieces of an even more special Star.

Even now, three nights later, she had to fight to process any of it, never mind believe it. That a plot had extended over three hundred fifty years and encompassed an area as massive as Amestris wasn't even within the realms of insanity, and nor were how transmutations could affect such a colossal area. She knew what the All was, but it was incomprehensible it could have manifested as a single thing.

And while she knew better than most how deep sentient life could sink into depravity, the genocide of Xerxes and the attempted genocide of Amestris were depths of inhumanity even she couldn't have conceived anyone was remotely capable of.

The reality she'd known throughout her life had been an insubstantial shadow. Her mind couldn't even slightly comprehend it, even though she knew it to be true, and all the emotion it could evoke from her was terror all her people would be wiped out before the end of next year's Spring.

She wished her mind was having as much trouble believing that, and feeling anything about how, Ashleigh was dead.

But that, as desperately as she wished it couldn't, her mind could believe, though it still couldn't fully process it. Additionally, that was eliciting emotion. It hurt so much she extremely highly doubted she'd be able to move if her people didn't need her. As things were, she'd cried on and off so much before setting out with the Elric brothers she'd been surprised her body was physically capable of shedding that many tears.

As she'd known it would, it hurt incomparably worse now that there was a gaping void where her friends and everyone else from Milos should have been, but she was keeping her tears back, not wanting to worry Al any more than he was already worried.

Al.

She barely knew him, but what little she knew about him already made him a new ray of light in a reality that had become so dark she needed rays in it so desperately it was almost a physical thing.

She knew people could be very kind, as well as very cruel. The Milosians hated the people of Amestris and Creta, but because they shared the same suffering, they were usually very supportive of each other and helpful towards those in more need than the average kinsman or kinswoman. Even the Milosians who hated her were usually very considerate of those of their people who didn't study alchemy, and willing to give whatever someone needed if he or she was experiencing unusual hardship, be it physical, mental, or emotional. Further, a Milosian soldier who wouldn't trade his or her life to save any of his or her fellows was a rarity.

But she and her people were companions in the same adversity, and they all knew each other. Al wasn't a partner in that adversity, and he'd never met her until two days ago. Yet he'd been willing to sacrifice his life to try to save her from a fatal fall when she hadn't shared his hardships, and when she'd been a total stranger to him.

That had been incredible in and of itself, and since then Al had proven himself even more amazing. He'd repeatedly been as supportive of and kind towards her as Miranda and her other closest friends when they hadn't known each other for a day, he had drastic doubts about the morality of using the Star even though its souls might be condemned beyond all deliverance, and he'd repaid her for blackmailing him and exploiting his and his brother's compassion by offering her much more support than he had at any time before then.

He was a marvel, with a sensitivity for others' pain she'd never encountered in her life when she'd thought she'd known everything there was to know about how sensitive humans could be of each others' struggles.

What Ed and Al had told her about reality and thinking life hadn't destroyed her ability to believe in people and the world, but if there had been any possibility she would have doubted in them, Al had erased it.

And what had she done to repay him? She'd exploited his generosity of spirit and threatened him into taking her with him.

She'd had no choice, but she was so revolted with herself she didn't want to eat.

Part of Julia, the part of her that didn't want to make new friends when a new baby was born because so many of her friends died, told her that she should befriend Al far less than she should have made a new friend any time before, that she could afford to experience the pain of losing another friend even less now that she knew Brother was dead. But she'd never let fear of her friends dying stop her from befriending new people before, and she wasn't about to start now. Especially not with someone like Al.

Ed cried out wordlessly and tossed, and Julia looked at him in concern.

"He's having a nightmare," Al whispered. "He's been having them for weeks, since we found out about the nationwide transmutation circle. I've tried to stop them by waking him up, but it didn't work. His nightmares are so frequent if I woke him up every time he had one, he'd get little or no sleep. There was one thing that helped, something I can't talk about without betraying his confidence, but that's not an option now."

"I see," Julia responded in a whisper of her own. She knew it wasn't her place to offer this, even more so after she'd exploited and blackmailed him, but she couldn't just sit back and let Ed suffer like this without making the offer. "If there's anything I can do for him, I will."

"I wouldn't try," Al advised her. "You might make things worse. As I'm certain you're aware, you're not his favorite person in the world right now."

Julia had thought he was going to say something like that, and looked away.

"I'm not angry with you myself," Al spoke. "I understand why you said those things. I don't approve, but I don't fault you for it. So if you're worried about that, could you please not be?"

Even though Al had repaid her exploitation and threats with kindness, she _had_ been worried about that, and hearing Al wasn't angry with her and didn't fault her caused a tiny amount of the weight on her shoulders to vanish. She looked at him and forced a smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Al replied.

"What about you?" she questioned. "How are you doing?"

"The overload is lessening," Al answered, and Julia's stomach twisted. "But it still doesn't hurt as much as it might have. What we've been through has been emotionally draining. I doubt we have the reserves of emotion left to hurt as much about what we caused in Milos as we have about other things. It's more painful now, but it could be a lot worse. It's also helping I'm even more exhausted now that the overload is ending."

Julia didn't know if that made things better or worse.

She wanted to ask what these 'other things' were, but she'd asked about the Elric brothers' pain enough earlier today. Questioning further would be prying.

Ed cried out again.

Al looked down at Ed, and Julia's heart went out to him. She'd seen how well the Elric brothers worked together when they'd saved her from the Chimera, like they knew each others' thoughts and were as aware of what each other was going to do as well as they knew their own thoughts and what their own actions would be. Furthermore, she'd heard how much terror had been in Al's voice when Ed had almost died at Atlas' hands. It was obvious Ed and Al connected on a level few siblings were able to reach each other on, and loved each other more than anyone or anything else anywhere. Al must be torment itself, unable to do anything to take away his brother's nightmares.

She admired how strong Al was, and how well he was bearing up under his helplessness, too. She knew if she'd been in his position it would be clear to everyone around her she was an emotional wreck. If there was one thing she couldn't take, it was being powerless.

But it also hurt to see their love for each other so horribly words couldn't encompass it, and not because of the anguish Al was doubtlessly in. It hurt because it reminded her of the relationship she'd had with Ashleigh years ago, and reminded her they'd never be able to live for each other or share their lives with each other that way again.

She found tears in her eyes, and her right hand holding the earring she wore on her left ear Ashleigh had given her.

"There's no reason for you to stay up," Al spoke. "I can hide you inside me myself if someone comes into this car. If you want to sleep so you don't see us, I won't mind."

Julia didn't want to leave Al by himself when he was helpless and tortured, or to be the only one carrying the burden of the watch, but she knew he'd feel worse if he saw her agonized from looking at him and Ed. So she rubbed away her tears and nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Al responded.

"Are you going to wake me up when it's my turn to be the lookout," she asked, "Or am I going to have to accept you're going to stay up the entire night for Ed's and my sake?"

"It's out of my hands," Al spoke back. "This armor body can't sleep."

Julia's eyes widened. That was terrible. "Are you sure you're willing to live that way for the rest of your life? Unable to rest from the cares of the world or to know the solace of pleasant dreams?"

"I don't want to," Al replied. "I loathe being awake the whole night. In numberless ways, it hurts more being all by myself for all those hours in the darkness than it does being unable to feel or taste.

"But I'm going to have to get used to it now. I can't have my body back. If I continue to try to reacquire it, I'll drag more people into danger."

Julia wanted to say something, but there was nothing she could think of to say. Ed and Al shouldn't give up on their dreams, but they _had_ murdered someone and ruined someone else's life by trying to restore their bodies. Because of that, she didn't know if she could disagree with Al about how he should give up on regaining his body. Additionally, even if she could, when Ed and Al were as unsure as they were there was nothing wrong with using souls who might be dead or lost past salvation to try to restore their bodies, she didn't have the slightest idea how to convince them they shouldn't give up on their dreams when they'd destroyed two people who hadn't been beyond deliverance.

Those things just made it more agonizing, though. They meant it was very likely she was helpless to do anything but look on at their shattered dreams, when Ed and Al deserved to be able to fulfill their dreams every amount as much as her people did, as anyone else alive did. They meant it was very likely she was powerless to do anything but witness two exceptional people, one of them one of the most amazing people she'd met in her life, throw away what they'd struggled for for multiple years. She knew what it was like now to believe your fighting had been all for nothing, and it was unimaginably horrific to witness Ed and Al not just experience that, but choose to give up on what they lived for too because they believed their struggling had been in vain.

That it was very likely she was helpless to keep their dreams from being reduced to rubble was far too much for her. It would have been far too much even before she'd learned Ashleigh had died and she'd been unable to do the most infinitesimal thing to prevent it. Because Ashleigh was dead, she hated it on a level and in a way she'd never known she could hate something until Atlas had revealed he'd murdered Ashleigh and she'd experienced that hate for him.

But what could she say or do? Try to give them their bodies back against their will once she had the Star? That would be disregarding their choices. She could never do that.

She had to say or do _something_ , however. It wasn't right this had happened to Ed and Al, and she couldn't take being powerless.

She clenched her hands into fists. How could this be happening? She had a better idea where to find a Crimson Star now than she'd had for years and was on her way to acquiring one, and that did cause her to feel stronger. But at the same time she felt immeasurably more powerless than she had at any time in her life before.

.

"Because I am powerless to help."-Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca

FINAL FANTASY XII


	12. Insurrections and Infiltration

.

 **CHAPTER 12:**

 **INSURRECTIONS AND INFILTRATION**

.

Ashleigh sat in his tent in the forest on the outskirts of the town of Essul, the morning Sun shining through the opening in the front of the tent, thinking.

He had a general plan for hijacking the transmutations of the one called Father on the day of the upcoming solar eclipse, or the day of another solar eclipse in the future. Ashleigh had thought about the abilities the one called Father possessed for a long time, taking into account everything he knew about how the Crimson Star worked, and after all that thinking, Ashleigh was almost certain it was possible, in theory, to outmaneuver the Homunculus and transmute himself into a perfect God.

The problem Ashleigh confronted was how to execute his plan.

He was confident he had a decent chance of outwitting the Homunculus. He and the Homunculus leader were kindred spirits in that they both valued the Truth more highly than almost anything else and strove to master it. The one called Father had been born from the Truth, was almost certainly as much a genius as Ashleigh was and his parents had been, if not more, and had centuries of experience manipulating an entire country, but Ashleigh knew how the Homunculus thought. Ashleigh could thus exploit the Homunculus' psychological blind spots. The problem wasn't stringing up the puppetmaster and using him as a marionette of Ashleigh's own, though that would still be a steep challenge. The problem was enacting his plan.

He wouldn't be able to do it by himself, but he couldn't seek aid from the Cretan military. It was too dangerous to let another governmental institution know about the planet's Gateway of Truth. It was too dangerous to let _anyone_ else know about the planet's Gateway of Truth, but there was clearly no avoiding that. It was even more dangerous to let the Cretan military know about it than a member of a nation's general populace, however, so that wasn't an option.

But he didn't know who else to turn to.

He needed to collaborate with at least one other alchemist in order for his plan to work, and a sizeable group of combat capable people, be they other alchemists or people skilled at regular combat, as well. But where could he find them?

Should he ask Julia for help? The concept of seeing his sister like this, hideously deformed, when he wasn't surely on the road to mastering the Truth and could share that goal with her, still terrified him, and he hated the concept of asking the bigots in the valley who had made his and his family's life before they'd emigrated to Creta an existence of horror for aid, but mastering the Truth was more important.

No. Creta would be searching for him by now, and if he went back to the valley, there was too high of a risk of him being seen by the secret police.

What about an Amestrian State Alchemist? The heads of the Amestrian military were involved in the efforts of the one called Father to open the planet's Gateway, so it wouldn't be as harmful to let an Amestrian soldier know about the supreme Gateway. But that was too risky. Any Amestrian State Alchemist unscrupulous enough to aid Ashleigh might reveal his plans to the one called Father and take the Homunculus' side.

Who, then? What other possibilities were there? He didn't know of any Amestrian civilian alchemists who would be liable to believe his tale, much less be willing to betray the Fϋhrer, and attempting to find one meant taking too much of a risk of one or more of the alchemists he spoke to alerting the military about him.

There was one other option.

He'd spent yesterday in Essul mingling with the townsfolk in the white civilian shirt and gray civilian pants he now wore, getting a sense of what was going on in Amestris, and the town had been abuzz with the news Fϋhrer King Bradley of Amestris had been badly injured fourteen days ago while in the town of Dublith on an inspection tour in the south, and all the soldiers who had accompanied him on the inspection tour save one had been killed. The Fϋhrer had been released from the hospital yesterday and was due to return to Central with his family before the night, but he'd been well enough from the beginning to have ordered reinforcements down to Dublith to arrest whoever had been responsible for the murders and his injuries, and he hadn't yet. Speculation ran wild as to why.

That told Ashleigh someone resourceful lived in Dublith, and someone who was willing to defy Bradley. That meant there was a chance that person would be willing to aid Ashleigh, and knew of others who would be willing to do the same.

Yes, that was a good idea. He'd begin there.

.

Isaac opened his eyes.

His head throbbed, but he kept them open, looking up at the roof of what appeared to be a dilapidated shack, waiting for his memory to clear.

When he recollected the last things that had happened to him before he'd lost consciousness, he cursed. He knew the Briggs soldiers weren't working with Kimblee because they'd opened fire on him, but he had no guarantee they weren't Kimblee's companions and hadn't decided to betray Kimblee for his crimes years ago and kill them both. He could feel bandages over his legs and lower arms, and that meant the Briggs soldiers probably wanted him alive for a time, but he didn't know whether that time would extend for longer than an interrogation.

"Don't worry," a familiar voice spoke, one it took Isaac a few seconds to place. Buccaneer. "You're among friends. It's good to see you again, McDougal. It's been a long time. The last time we met was before the Ishvalan Civil War started, wasn't it?"

Isaac looked to his left, to see the large mohawked male sitting on a box at the side of the cot Isaac was on. "That's right," Isaac responded. He thought about his options, but he couldn't find any. He could attempt to heal his wounds with the Stone, but Buccaneer was one of the most skilled soldiers in the military. There was no way the veteran would give him the chance to patch himself up if Buccaneer was lying. "You'll forgive me if the feeling isn't mutual."

"That's understandable," Buccaneer said. "If I were in your shoes, I'd feel the same. However, for what it's worth, we're not with Kimblee and Bradley. We're not with the Elrics and Mustang, although we heard about you from them, but we weren't officially deployed to hunt you down. We recovered you by the orders of our Queen, Olivier Mira Armstrong, who has her own ideas for throwing down the Fϋhrer that _do_ have room for bloodshed."

"Are you willing to tell me what they supposedly are?" Isaac questioned warily.

"According to our Queen's younger brother," Buccaneer responded, "You have a Philosopher's Stone. I've been dispatched by General Armstrong to use my leave time and that of comrades of mine to do two things: Find you, and travel among the Ishvalan slums in Amestris learning their mannerisms and customs so we can teach them to the rest of Briggs." Isaac gave him a disbelieving look, and Buccaneer smiled in amusement. "I know. Ishvalans would sooner sleep on lava than help the Amestrian military. I'm certain you remember Miles. He's part Ishvalan," Isaac's eyes widened, "On his grandfather's side. He wrote a letter of introduction in the Ishvalan language swearing by an Ishvalan oath we have the interests of the Ishvalans in mind, and if the Ishvalans help General Armstrong become Fϋhrer, she'll move our troops out of Ishval and give them all the aid they need in reestablishing themselves there.

"Our Queen wants the soldiers of Briggs to disguise themselves as robed, masked, and hooded Ishvalans, travel into Central, and surround the Central Command Center as if we're going to stage an organized protest against the government's treatment of the Ishvalans." Isaac's wariness lessened slightly. Buccaneer didn't need to lie to him about Briggs' intentions to gain Isaac's trust when he was their prisoner and they could torture him to learn what they wanted from him, so that Buccaneer was telling Isaac how they wanted to stage a coup meant the Briggs soldiers might indeed be Isaac's friends. "That's where you come in. We shadowed the Fϋhrer's people, rescued you, and brought you to this Ishvalan slum in West City," the Freezer's wariness decreased further. If Buccaneer meant him harm, Buccaneer had given up an advantage by telling Isaac where he was, "because you have a Philosopher's Stone. You can transmute us as many tanks as we need out of nothing once we surround the Central Command Center. We want to board those tanks and use them to storm it, and blast it, Bradley, and the staff of High Command into bone and blood."

Isaac was still very wary, but he found himself interested. He didn't want to shed blood to stop bloodshed when there could be another way, but he knew his chances of being able to completely avoid it were extremely slim, and attempting to save Amestris while trying to avoid it drastically lessened his chances of rescuing the country's people. He wouldn't have agreed to ally with the Elrics if there'd been another way he might be able to save Amestris without having to risk spilling as much blood as his initial plot had. If Buccaneer was being honest, working with General Armstrong would give Isaac that other way, and a much better chance of protecting Amestris than working with the Elrics and Mustang would.

"Unless you have a better idea," Buccaneer continued. "We're willing to help you execute your original plan for deposing Bradley, assuming it didn't put any civilians in danger."

"I'm sorry to tell you it did," Isaac told Buccaneer. "I didn't want to endanger the civilians of Central, but I believed I had no choice. If you're telling me the truth, you'll be unwilling to aid me in returning to that method of assault."

Buccaneer frowned. "What was your method of attack?"

Isaac had to tell Buccaneer. If Buccaneer was deceiving him, it might be to trick him into revealing how much, if any, danger the Fϋhrer was in from the Freezer's previous activities in Central without needing to resort to the long and arduous process of torture. Telling Buccaneer his original plan would be harmless; if the Briggs soldiers were Isaac's enemies, he almost certainly wouldn't be able to escape them and execute it, so it wouldn't put Amestris in any worse danger if he informed Buccaneer of it. And if the Briggs soldier didn't shoot the Freezer once he revealed the workings of his plan, that would be further evidence Buccaneer _was_ his ally.

"I've learned Xingese alkahestry," Isaac unveiled. "It's a field of alchemy practiced by Xing that allows the Xingese to perform transmutations at remote locations by reading how an energy known as the 'Dragon's Pulse' flows beneath the surface of the planet. I drew multiple transmutation circles that functioned as seals for a single circle and as circles themselves throughout Central in order to create a citywide array of remote circles I could activate by transmuting with one of the seal circles, and use to aim transmutations at remote locations. I was going to use my Stone to activate them simultaneously, and they were then to freeze moisture out of the air and send glaciers, ones capable of repairing themselves and altering their path through transmutation as the need arose, converging through Central on the Central Command Center in the middle of the array. I meant for them to freeze all of Central Command in ice, at best, killing High Command and Fϋhrer Bradley, and at worst fatally crippling the government by destroying countless records and resources vital to keeping the Bradley administration functioning."

"And in the process of converging on Central Command," Buccaneer snarled, "Those glaciers would have wrecked large portions of the city and imperiled thousands of civilians. That was your idea of saving the people within the country from death or virtual death?"

The Freezer Alchemist sighed. "Yes," he responded. "It was thousands, or millions. I hated it, but the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. I know the soldiers of Briggs aren't as ruthless as I was willing to be, but I also know how pragmatic you are. You must see where I was coming from."

Buccaneer nodded. "I do," he replied. "That doesn't mean I like it, though. Be thankful the Fullmetal Alchemist convinced you to abandon that plan, because if he hadn't and you'd failed and ended up in the situation we found you in, we might have left you to Kimblee."

Isaac wasn't bothered. "I'm not thankful," he answered. "I still have no surety you didn't capture me on Bradley's orders, and for all I know you're about to shoot me."

Buccaneer reached into a pocket of his uniform and took out a familiar red rock similar in size and shape to a marble. Isaac clenched his teeth, but at the same time, he felt himself relaxing for more reasons than that he was likely safe. This meant he probably had allies who would enable him to depose Bradley without having to risk killing as many as his initial plan had, but who weren't going to jeopardize the salvation of everyone in the nation for a little child's storybook.

He'd achieved what he'd thought was an insane hallucination and gained the aid of a State Alchemist, but since that State Alchemist had turned out to be a hopelessly idealistic toddler, Isaac had almost entirely given up on attaining real help.

Yet now he might have it. Maybe, just maybe, reality wasn't wholly as deranged as he'd thought it was.

"You gagged this up when you were unconscious," Buccaneer revealed, and brought the Stone over Isaac's mouth. Isaac opened his mouth, and Buccaneer dropped it in. Isaac swallowed it. "Would I have returned this to you if we were with the Fϋhrer?"

"Probably not," the Freezer responded.

"So will you help us?"

Isaac grinned. "Of course. But if the Fullmetal Alchemist's idea actually looks like it's working out before you've taught enough of Briggs the Ishvalan ways of life, I'm siding with him again. Your plot is more rational, but what matters more is deposing Bradley as quickly as we can."

"I agree," Buccaneer spoke. "If Elric and Mustang look like they'll succeed, we'll back him up, too. We learned ideals are dead weights a long time ago, and General Armstrong doesn't like Mustang – he's a rival to her ambitions of one day becoming Fϋhrer herself – but results are the important thing.

"Regardless of what happens, though, I'm glad to have you with us."

"I'm glad to have the chance to assist you," Isaac said.

Isaac's stomach twisted. If he went to Briggs, he'd have to give up on getting alkahestry texts to the Fullmetal Alchemist. If any of his old friends from the days before he'd gained his State Alchemist's certification whom he'd asked to keep an eye on the Elrics, and retrieve his mail from his paternal uncle's old house and get it to them, had been caught while the Freezer Alchemist had been by himself, the trail wouldn't have led to anyone but the Elrics and him. However, if one of his friends was caught while he was at Briggs, the trail would lead to everyone in Briggs.

That meant he'd be hanging the Fullmetal Alchemist out to dry, and as much as the boy's idealism disgusted the Freezer, he didn't abandon his allies.

But that was how Equivalent Exchange worked. Maybe the laws of alchemy did or didn't justify killing, but they did require you to give up something of equal value to what you sought to take hold of. If that meant he had to abandon an ally, he'd do it.

Further, he already couldn't justify breathing. Adding another wrong to the mountain's weight of sins he carried on his shoulders wouldn't make a difference.

"It's good to hear that," Buccaneer smiled. "I'll leave you to rest, then, until we pull out of West City later today. I doubt Kimblee will think to look for you in an Ishvalan slum, but one can never be too careful."

.

Ed removed the phone from its receiver in the phone booth.

His stomach twisted violently at the knowledge of what he was going to say. They were words he should never have had to speak in his life. Mustang was lazy, but he was one of the last people Edward had believed would turn out to be unreliable, and that he was going to tell Mason they probably weren't going to be able to count on the Colonel's assistance felt like a betrayal of Mustang.

It felt even more like one now that Ed had admitted to himself his dislike of the Colonel had no legs to stand on, and Mustang was a friend.

He'd already betrayed Mustang, though. He'd betrayed him at the beginning, when they'd first met and the Colonel had urged them to embrace the possibility they might be able to recover their bodies. It was nothing but luck it had taken all these years for that betrayal to bear fruit and kill someone close to Mustang.

Hawkeye was dead.

Ed knew it was real, and could process it, and accepted it, but even _now_ , after not accepting the Truth had resulted in tragedy three times, to his shame, he couldn't fully feel it was real. He'd just been to Mustang's portion of Central Command once since Mustang had been transferred here, but in numerous ways it didn't feel real Hawkeye wouldn't be there to greet him if he did go there, and would never greet him at Mustang's office again, with a face professionally expressionless or smiling, but always cordial or polite. In numerous ways it didn't feel real Edward would never again witness her rebuke Mustang for slacking; or stand near the Colonel silently watching over him, devoted to ensuring he was safe every second even when they were among trusted companions; or follow the Colonel behind him and to his side with her gun drawn when Ed was on a mission with them, alert for the slightest movement that was a potential threat to him; or tell Ed Mustang had a mission for them and they'd have to postpone following up on their latest lead after the Philosopher's Stone, unbothered by how frustrating it was for Edward to hear that.

Shortly before Mustang had been summoned to Central to deal with the Freezer, Fuery had found a homeless dog, and as he hadn't been able to take care of the dog himself and hadn't felt comfortable giving him to Mustang, and the Colonel's other closest subordinates were unwilling to look after the dog or Fuery hadn't felt comfortable giving the dog to that person, Hawkeye had adopted the dog and named him Black Hayate. In numerous ways it didn't feel real Edward would never be able to witness Hawkeye walking Black Hayate through the streets of Central now.

Edward knew his mind wasn't reacting to Hawkeye's death in any aberrant way. The mind wasn't capable of fully accepting loss like this when someone had been a major part of your life for the majority of four years and been torn away no matter how much a person was willing to accept it. But he still felt ashamed.

In addition, it still hurt. He was too drained and exhausted to feel as much anguish he'd murdered Hawkeye as he'd felt about having murdered Nina, but there was still a gaping emptiness inside him where part of him had been ripped away forever.

As well, he felt guilty he _wasn't_ as agonized Hawkeye was dead, and he'd killed her by requiring her to fix his careless mistakes, as he'd been anguished Nina was dead because of him. He was aware it wasn't because he didn't care, and because he was overtaxed emotionally. But he'd known Nina for three days. He'd known Hawkeye for the majority of five years. He should be experiencing much more pain than he'd murdered Hawkeye like he'd murdered Mom.

He should be experiencing much more pain than he was Mustang had given away his entire life, and was now in prison, because of Ed, too.

It wasn't right, that he should have been so overtaxed emotionally he couldn't hurt more, even if it was because Winry was a captive and might have been tortured or lost her humanity by now, or would in the future. It, too, felt like a betrayal few things could be worse than, of Hawkeye, and of Mustang.

But even _this_ was the truth, so he even had to accept this.

As he had to accept he was betraying Mustang further by intending to tell Mason the Colonel probably wouldn't be able to assist them in infiltrating the base of the one called Father.

That meant there was no point putting it off. He dialed Teacher's number.

The other end picked up, and Mason's voice came through it. "Hello, Happy Meat. How can we help you?"

"This is Ed," Edward identified himself. "There's been a change of plans." He didn't need to take a deep breath, but he did. He owed it to Hawkeye and Mustang. This should have been much harder to say. "Mustang's probably not going to be able to penetrate the underground complex with us. Hawkeye was murdered, and Mustang fell apart, tried to kill someone to avenge her, and was arrested. Even if he's released from his cell soon, I very highly doubt he's going to be in any shape to accompany us.

"I recommend you call Teacher and let her know she and Sig can come to Central any time." He'd find an automail engineer in Central who was willing to fix whatever was wrong with his elbow before the end of today and set up an appointment with him or her. After what he'd done to Winry, he loathed the concept of anyone altering her work, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "There's no reason for her to keep mailing him."

"I… I'll do that," Mason spoke. "I'm sorry to hear this, Ed."

"I'm not the one who needs the apology," Ed responded, but he didn't go into detail. "We'll be waiting for Teacher at _The Nickel Phial_ , as we have been for the last weeks."

He hung up. This was it, then. In a matter of days they'd be retrieving their evidence and everything would genuinely begin. He pushed aside his doubts. He was inept, a liability to his friends, and a murderer, but he was going in and was going to give his best, so there was no point doubting.

He turned to Al and Julia, who were standing outside the phone booth.

He glared at Julia. He knew he should be treating her more kindly, as she'd recently learned her brother was dead and her reality had been turned on its head as terribly as Ed's had been, but Julia's blackmail had given him a reason to take out his anger on her after weeks of having no one but himself to hate or be angry at, and it was a relief to be able to take his anger out on someone else who wasn't an enemy again.

Al shifted slightly in front of Julia protectively, and Edward grimaced. He didn't know why – he was aware part of it was Al's intrinsic sympathy for those hurt and suffering, be they stray cats or tortured humans, but there appeared to be more to it than that – but Al had become very attached to Julia in a very short amount of time. Ed couldn't take out his anger on Julia too much, or he'd hurt his brother.

"You're not coming with us into the base," Edward said. "You're an alchemist, but Homunculi bodies are more malleable than those of humans, and they can do things with their bodies that make them more deadly than any human. Based on how you fared when you fought against the wolf Chimera, you won't stand a chance against them. We're going to do everything we can to avoid running into one, but the possibility exists we'll fail, so it's too dangerous for you to fight at our side in there. You're staying at the hotel, and we're going to use alchemy to seal you in your room if Sig doesn't come with Teacher and can't watch you to make sure you don't leave."

Julia met his eyes. "So be it."

"I'm sorry," Al spoke to her.

"You needn't be," Julia reassured him. "I understand."

"I'm done here," Ed said. "Al, you take Julia to the hotel. I'm going to ask Archer for permission for us to attend Hawkeye's funeral tomorrow."

.

The brown-haired researcher in the white lab coat smiled at them. "I'm sure Lyra will agree to that price. Come right in."

His face hidden behind Fu's Xingese mask, Scar's lips curled up slightly. It had likely worked. He extremely highly doubted this was a trap. The Slicing Air Alchemist, Brigadier General Lyra Hendrick, the State Alchemist in charge of Laboratory Three, likely wouldn't have been willing to allow them into Laboratory Three for any reason, even to trap them, if she thought there was too great a chance they were a threat. After ten days, they were likely in.

Part of Scar's plan had been to, while in his garb and Sunglasses concealing his identity, ambush researchers from Laboratory Three on their way to and from the laboratory and their homes until the military assigned soldiers and military police to guard the researchers, and heightened security at the laboratory. He'd done that, and things had developed as he'd assumed they would. While he had, Ling had visited the less savory parts of Central, identifying himself as the Prince of the Yao Clan to pay several of the mercenary bands who frequented those places and giving them reason to believe there was a meaningful chance he might be who he spoke he was by sharing with them much of his extensive knowledge of how the Xingese court functioned and the important figures in the Yao Clan lived. Then he promised to pay them parts of his wealth if they would offer to protect Laboratory Three and its researchers after security had been heightened. The mercenaries had been skeptical, but the Xingese were known for honoring their word, so the mercenaries had seen this as too great an opportunity to pass up and taken Ling's job. Scar had intended for Ling and his retainers, a black-haired girl named Lan Fan and her gray-haired and mustached grandfather, Fu, to pose with Scar as Xingese mercenaries looking for work, and had hoped that how most of the other offers were being made by mercenary bands who were known to operate out of Central, and who were known to be rivals of each other's groups and unlikely to work together, would cause it to appear less likely any of the mercenaries seeking employment at Laboratory Three were affiliated with the person who had attacked the researchers and the person had attacked the researchers to get mercenaries into the laboratory.

A few days after the other mercenaries had started making their offers, long enough Ling's offer might appear less convenient, Ling, Fu, Lan Fan, and Scar, then wearing Fu's mask and fighting garb, had offered their services as well. At first, they'd charged a higher price for their services than any other mercenary band, but they'd pretended, with great reluctance, to be more amenable to lowering their price than the other mercenary groups. So Lyra had ordered one of the researchers to give her a day to think of a reasonable price range she might be willing to hire Ling within and tell Ling and the others to return the following day. Ling, his retainers, and Scar had, had negotiated within that price range with this brown-haired male researcher, and had now arrived at a price the researcher believed Lyra would pay.

That meant they might be in.

Even if they were, though, Scar was aware Lyra was probably suspicious of them. Even if they'd made it in, discovering the laboratory's secrets was going to be no less challenging than sneaking inside it had been.

Ling smiled. "Lead the way, my good fellow."

The brown-haired researcher turned, took a ring of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the double barred iron gate into the front yard of the multi-floor laboratory. He led them to the double wooden doors serving as the front entrance, and the four of them followed him inside through a white lobby reaching up multiple stories and through another pair of doors into a complex of white-walled corridors and white-walled rooms with alchemists in white lab coats standing and walking through the halls, blue-uniformed Amestrian soldiers interspersed standing or walking among them.

They hadn't turned many corners when Ling fell back and looked up at Scar. "You were correct," he whispered. "There _are_ alchemical secrets within these walls. I'm sensing two other abnormalities in the Dragon's Pulse, similar to the abnormalities I've been reading underground. But these ones are localized, and one is moving through these halls in the direction of the other."

Scar suppressed the urge to swear. That meant there was a chance whoever was carrying the moving one would leave the laboratory before they could find him or her.

"Do you have any ideas how to get to them?" Scar whispered back.

"Follow my lead," Ling responded.

He spoke up. "Doctor," he addressed the researcher leading them. "I just thought of something. Would Brigadier General Hendrick be more inclined to trust us if I ordered two of my servants to wait in a lab that currently isn't in use, with the door locked and guards stationed in front of the doors? Thus enabling you to use them as hostages at any time should we give Lyra further reason to believe we're not what we appear to be?"

The researcher stopped walking, Scar and his companions did as well, and the researcher was quiet for a few seconds. Then he turned to face them with a smile. "That would be a step in the right direction." He nodded to six Amestrian soldiers standing nearby. "You heard him. Escort the two people he orders to go with you to the abandoned sulfur lab on the second floor, seal the door, and guard it."

"As you command," one of the soldiers responded.

"Lan Fan?" Ling spoke. "Fu?"

The two raised their hands in the air and walked over to the soldiers, who surrounded them and aimed their rifles at them. Then they allowed the soldiers to take them away.

"Thank you," the researcher said. "If you'll continue to follow me."

Once they were walking again Ling whispered to Scar, "Any lab room conducting alchemical experiments must have large ventilation shafts for filtering out hazardous gases. Fu and Lan Fan can also read the Dragon's Pulse, and they'll climb into Laboratory Three's ventilation system and find the abnormalities. Depending on whether they can do so without exposing us, they'll return with them.

"The moving abnormality entered this floor of the laboratory from a lower floor. If we're given freer reign of this building once we meet Lyra, I want to have a look down there. Do you wish to accompany me, or find Lan Fan and Fu?"

"I'll go with you," Scar whispered to Ling. "It's best no one explores this place by himself or herself."

Ling smiled. "You have my gratitude."

.

Even when her duty called for it, Lan Fan hated letting the Young Lord out of her sights.

It was her sworn responsibility to protect him, both the duty she'd been born into as a daughter of a house that had served the Yao royalty for generations, and the duty she'd taken upon herself when she'd gotten to know the Young Lord and learned how much of a cut he was above many of the other Princes and Princesses of Xing.

Many of the other Princes and Princesses of Xing were self-interested, caring mostly for their own power and privilege, and made promises to their clans of bettering their fortunes when what they truly intended was to raise their own status, even though they were willing to struggle to keep these promises because the people of Xing kept their oaths. Not all of the Emperor's other children were self-interested, but enough of them were Lan Fan recognized how valuable the Young Lord was as a person who truly believed a leader existed to serve his or her people, and a leader's people didn't exist to serve him or her.

In addition, the Young Lord believed a leader existed for his or her people with a conviction comparable to a child's faith in the ideals held by fairytale heroes. Other leaders who had shared the same beliefs throughout history had been convinced otherwise when confronted with the ruthlessness of reality, but Lan Fan knew that would never happen to the Young Lord. No matter what hardships he was faced with or how severely the world showed him it wasn't what he thought it was, she knew he would never lose his determination to live for those who depended on him.

The Young Lord was a wonder, and had she not been born into his service she would have offered her life to him anyway, because he was worthy of everything she had to give and more.

She hated not being able to be sure his magnificent spirit was all right.

Part of fulfilling her vows of living her life for him meant doing what he wanted her to do, however, so when he wanted to send her away from his side, she had to obey him.

She doubted she would get used to being away from him for as long as she lived, though.

She reached a grating looking down into the first-floor chamber where both abnormalities were now located, and crawled to the other side, giving Grandfather room to spy on the people within it from the near side of the grating. Then she turned and looked down into the room.

The room beneath her was small and white, with a single door serving as an entrance, a desk near the wall opposite it, and large cabinets with clear glass surfaces lining the walls to the right of the desk, relative to facing it. At the desk sat a male in a white lab coat with short blonde hair, a blonde mustache, and a golden tooth in his upper teeth. He was the source of one of the abnormalities she could sense. Facing him was a black-haired woman with the hood of her brown robe down and her visage a mask; she was the source of the other abnormality. To both sides of the black-haired woman stood three males in white shirts and blue pants with swords belted to their waists.

"Yes," the golden-toothed researcher spoke. "For the same reasons as the ones I gave you before. Lujon and Nash know nothing about how the Philosopher's Stone is transmuted," Lan Fan's eyes widened. Had they struck gold this soon after coming to Amestris? Would she be able to give the Young Lord what he desired, and their clan needed, without too much more trouble? Eagerly, she listened closer, "And nothing about why we've been transmuting the mannequins. They're no threat to us in those ways, and that they've lived peacefully and inconspicuously in possession of their Stones," Lan Fan's eyes flew wide. The Philosopher's Stone _was_ real, and these people or the Amestrian government _did_ have them!? Elation consumed her. They _had_ struck gold! "for all these years since they stole them and abandoned the research teams working on the mannequins is evidence they have no intention of opposing us and just wish to be left alone, wherever they are. But if we attempt to silence them, that will give them cause to oppose us, and turn them into threats. Those are still the reasons I believe you shouldn't be tracking them down and seeking to kill them."

"Then your arguments mean nothing to me now," the woman said, words as much a mask as her face, "As they did before. Mustang hindered us at Liore. We cannot take as many chances as we have before he razed it; the damage he did us because we were less careful is proof of that. Nash and Lujon are members of the research teams who worked with the Stones on the mannequins, and so long as they're alive, they're a threat to us. What happened to Wrath down south has ensured we can inscribe the crest of blood into New Liore before the Promised Day," the gold-toothed researcher's eyebrows raised, and he smiled, "But that changes nothing about what caution dictates. Lujon and Nash are security risks, and must be taken care of."

"You have a better plan for carving the crest of blood into New Liore?" the golden-toothed person questioned. "I'm sure High Command is pleased with that. What is it?"

"Because the alchemist in the south was foolish enough to rebel against the Fϋhrer on her own initiative, we don't need to foment revolt at New Liore. We can use already existing treason to orchestrate bloodshed. Once a lesser amount of people are populating New Liore than the amount we believed we'd need, Wrath will inform the military we've discovered the alchemist who tried to kill him in the Southern Region," Lan Fan had heard what had happened to the Fϋhrer of Amestris during his inspection tour days ago, and was further surprised at the revelation Bradley was more than he appeared to be. She clenched her teeth and glared furiously down at the people in the chamber. So Bradley was another leader who didn't care for the people he or she was supposed to be serving, "Intends to dispatch an army of alchemically transmuted humanoid mannequins to New Liore to kill everyone there and prevent our economic experiment from getting anywhere. He'll deploy a sizeable portion of the military to New Liore to defeat it, enough a sufficient amount of people will be present in New Liore we'll be able to carve the crest of blood into it, then unleash the mannequins on the soldiers and the townsfolk in New Liore. The soldiers and townsfolk will die, and we'll have our crest of blood."

"But then High Command will know our promises of providing them an obedient army they can use to unify the world under Amestris," What!? All the heads of the Amestrian government were willing to sacrifice their people for a corrupt purpose, and at least one portion of that head wanted to wage war on the whole _planet_!? What had they stumbled upon? "were lies," the golden-toothed researcher spoke, "And will know our vow of conferring them immortality," Lan Fan's eyes went wide, but she knew this might not mean these people knew the secret of immortality for certain. The researcher was talking about deceptions, "once your father achieves his goal were likely lies too. They'll refuse to collaborate with us any longer, and that will imperil our ability to acquire our sacrifices."

"The Generals of High Command are spineless incompetents," the woman responded. "We don't need them any further this close to the Promised Day. When New Liore has been repopulated sufficiently, we'll order your children," she gestured to the males standing to her sides, "To assassinate all of them and we'll place the blame on the alchemist who wounded Wrath. Wrath will replace them with a smaller, provisional High Command that knows nothing of Father's dream and who will serve Wrath out of loyalty and without us reeling them in with bait, and that will keep Amestris functioning efficiently enough for us to attain our sacrifices. It will also give us a reason to remove General Armstrong from Briggs when it's time to carve the crest there; we can reassign her as a member of the provisional High Command. Whether she's disloyal or not, she won't be a threat without her soldiers at her side, and if we give her a seat in the provisional High Command, she'll be a hostage to discourage the Briggs soldiers from attempting a coup."

"I see," the gold-toothed researcher replied. "Forgive this foolish old human for doubting you. I should have known you're too experienced to let setbacks like Liore skew your ability to think."

"I grant you forgiveness," the woman responded. "You wouldn't be the first pawn of ours to be uncertain we know what we're doing. We're used to it. We believe we won't receive anything else from people whose lives are too short to genuinely take the long or large view."

Lan Fan suppressed the urge to gasp. Was this woman immortal!? She looked at her grandfather, and he appeared stunned.

She wanted to remove the grate, jump down into the room, put one of her _kunai_ to the woman's throat or the golden-toothed researcher's throat, and demand to know the answer, but she knew that would be foolish. If the woman was immortal, Lan Fan probably wouldn't be able to threaten anyone down there, and even if the woman wasn't, she had no way of knowing how skilled the swordsmen at the sides of the woman were. There was no guarantee she and her grandfather could abduct the woman or the gold-toothed researcher before they raised an alarm, putting the Young Lord in danger, assuming they could abduct either of the two at all.

Even so, what she and Grandfather were learning by eavesdropping on this conversation was invaluable just as information. She needed to be satisfied with attaining nothing but knowledge for now.

"Still, I should have known better," the gold-toothed researcher said. "We natural humans," Lan Fan's eyes went wide, "Don't have centuries," further elation consumed her. The woman _was_ immortal! "to learn the wisdom you've accumulated, nor do we live as close to the Truth as you do, but I'm fully aware you belong in your position as farmers of us livestock," Lan Fan clenched her hands into fists, her elation washed away, shaking with fury. The researcher had just said the Young Lord was no more than a beast. She bared her teeth at him, "And your father as the harvester of us resources." Lan Fan suppressed the urge to snarl. "Further, I know we're limited by the brevity of our lives. My lack of faith was unconscionable."

"Then what do you want me to do about it?" the woman asked. "We still have uses for you, so we're not going to kill you until the Promised Day, at the earliest."

"I don't want you to do anything," the gold-toothed researcher spoke back. "I was just apologizing, and acknowledging my wrongs."

He smiled. "At any rate, it's good to know things are back on track with the circle." Reality reeled and tilted violently. Did that meant what Lan Fan thought it did? "What of Isaac the Freezer? Did Kimblee neutralize him?"

"He engaged the Freezer in combat," the woman responded, "But unknown forces intervened and took him away. Kimblee is searching West City for him again, in case he's still there, but I'm sure you're as aware as I am that's unlikely."

"That's disappointing," the gold-toothed figure spoke. "I had more belief than that in the State Alchemist who made the largest contributions to the crest we carved into Ishval." This was getting better and better. Now Scar had a partial answer as to why his people had been massacred. "But there is a silver lining in this. One of Kimblee's Philosopher's Stones was transmuted from the souls of our Ishvalan soldiers."

Lan Fan jolted violently, and a mixture of revulsion and new elation consumed her. They had it! They knew the method of transmuting the Philosopher's Stone! Furthermore, that the woman was connected to the Philosopher's Stone and immortal made it very possible the belief the Stone could bestow immortality was grounded in reality! It was now even more probable getting ahold of the Stone would win the Young Lord the throne! If they learned the transmutation circle for creating the Stone, and captured a sufficient amount of people from a rival clan, the imperial throne might be as good as the Young Lord's!

But at the same time, the concept of forming something by killing or otherwise sacrificing who knew how many people revolted her. Assassinating individual members of rival clans was one thing. This would be mass murder. She'd do it – ensuring the Young Lord gained the throne was more important than anything else – but she hoped they'd be able to get their hands on an existing Stone and it wouldn't be necessary. She didn't want to kill or virtually kill that many people at once, and she wanted to see the Young Lord stain his hands that thickly even less.

Thankfully, she knew exactly where they could find two Stones. If the Stones were transmuted from living souls, they were undoubtedly the sources of the localized anomalies in the Dragon's Pulse she could feel moving like dammed up rapids from where the researcher sat and the woman stood. The Young Lord almost certainly wouldn't need to commit mass murder.

Lan Fan wasn't going to tell Scar his Ishvalan brethren had been transmuted into a Stone, however. She didn't see anything wrong with taking revenge, so long as you didn't take it too far, but the Young Lord did and Scar _was_ taking his vengeance too far by targeting every State Alchemist in Amestris, even those who hadn't seen action in Ishval. She wasn't going to give him a new reason to hate Amestris.

She knew Grandfather wouldn't too.

"It would have been humiliating if a Stone comprised of Ishvalans had defeated a Stone composed of Amestrian researchers," the gold-toothed researcher was saying.

"Don't forget," the woman said, "Father's Stone is constructed of the souls of hundreds of thousands of Xerxians," reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled violently, and Lan Fan's stomach clenched and heaved violently. She almost missed the rest of the woman's words, "And the Stone extended underground is as well." Even though Lan Fan was still sickened at the revelation of how Xerxes had become the ruin they'd visited on the way to Amestris, Lan Fan gave her grandfather, whose eyes were wide at what he'd heard about the fate of Xerxes and were now widening further, a shocked look. The aberrations in the flow of chi beneath Amestris were the result of a Stone too, and a single Stone that stretched beneath all of Amestris!? That was totally insane. No alkahestrist in Xing was sure the Philosopher's Stone was real, yet someone from Xerxes had been able to transmute one so mammoth it extended below an entire country the size of Amestris!? Even knowing the government had all the souls of Xerxes at their disposal, that sounded like something that could just be possible in the daydreams of the deranged.

However, it appeared it _was_ possible in reality.

If the Xerxian had been willing to separate that many souls from his Stone, given what the gold-toothed researcher and the woman had spoken, did this mean all the soldiers in the mannequin army the people were discussing were animated by Stones as well?

But that wasn't important. Lan Fan's knees were slightly weaker. There was an even greater chance they'd be able to obtain an existing Stone now, if but a tiny one. There was a tiny possibility they'd be able to discover a way to break off a portion of the underground Stone, and all they had to do to reach it was dig. There was now a tiny bit less of a chance the Young Lord would have to commit mass murder.

"And when Father transmutes his Stone out of this nation," the woman continued, and Lan Fan was barely able to keep her stomach from emptying itself, reality reeling and tilting and tumbling and spinning even more violently. Even Grandfather clenched his teeth at hearing that, "He'll be using the souls of the Ishvalan refugees scattered throughout Amestris to control the world's knowledge."

After the other things she'd recently heard, Lan Fan wasn't sure she wanted to know what the world's knowledge was.

"True," the golden-toothed figure acknowledged. "But a Xerxian transmuted your father, and he was born of the blood of a Xerxian. That makes the Xerxian race the equals of the Amestrians. Furthermore, we culled so many Ishvalans during the War of Extermination they'll be so far outnumbered by the Amestrians within the mammoth Stone they might as well be nonexistent. Kimblee's Stone, on the other hand, is made up of nothing but Ishvalans. It's a filthy piece of rubble that doesn't deserve to be called a Philosopher's Stone."

"Regretfully," the woman responded, "I can't sympathize. Amestrians, Xerxians, Ishvalans… you humans are all the same to me. Foolish cattle." Lan Fan shook with fury again and suppressed the urge to snarl at the insult to the Young Lord. "Though how I see humans isn't that much different from how you see Ishvalans, so perhaps I can understand. Our perception is a matter of species superiority, yours of racial and ethnic superiority, but in the end, they're the same thing. Recognition of those unworthy of a place in the ecosystem of nature.

"Recall, however, the Ishvalans making up the Stone are no longer human. They're the Stone now; they've transcended their humanity. So you can't judge their worth on the same scale you can judge the worth of other humans."

"You have a point," the researcher spoke. "But we're digressing. You're now Ultimate Spinner," Lan Fan wondered what that meant. Was that a title referring to kinds of transmutations the woman now knew how to do? "You've yet to locate Nash and Lujon, the Promised Day will occur on schedule – and that will silence all the uproar the Generals are making in High Command due to how the Promised Day might not have happened during their lifetimes – and the Freezer Alchemist remains a threat. Is that what you came here to tell me?"

"There's one other matter," the woman replied. "I don't know all the details yet, but according to High Command, Riza Hawkeye was murdered in Table City and Roy Mustang has fallen into despair." The gold-toothed researcher smiled again. "Correct. With the proper prompting, we may have our final sacrifice in a matter of weeks. We may not even need to manipulate Mustang into it; he was willing to demolish his career and chances of becoming Fϋhrer to avenge her. If he's lost himself that far, he may try human transmutation on his own initiative.

"Then, so long as we can take care of the alchemist in the south," the researcher said back, "Everything will work out. It's superb to know that. I'm very happy for all of you."

"There's no reason for you to leave yourself out," the woman replied. "We know how much you've been waiting for this."

"Does that matter?" the gold-toothed person asked back. "I'm no more than a pawn. I live for you to use in accordance with your whims. I have no justification including myself."

The woman nodded. "Well put. That said; I'll send Gluttony to deliver you your food and drink for the next week tomorrow. I'll be back when there are further developments."

The woman pulled her hood over her head, turned, walked to the door, opened it, and exited the chamber. The swordsmen followed her in single file. The last male to leave closed the door behind him, and the researcher walked up to it and bolted it with a number of bolts and locked multiple locks. Lan Fan assumed the golden-toothed researcher had been a member of one of the research teams the government had murdered and they and the golden-toothed figure didn't want the rest of Laboratory Three to know he was still alive.

Lan Fan wanted to attack the figure now that he was alone and try to steal his Philosopher's Stone, but she was aware that was still too dangerous. They didn't know how skilled an alchemist the person was. He might be capable of killing them both with ease with his Stone, or at the least, defending himself long enough Laboratory Three would be alerted of what Lan Fan and her grandfather were attempting to do, endangering the Young Lord.

She looked at Grandfather, and he nodded to show he was of the same opinion.

Her grandfather turned and crawled back the way they had come, headed for an exit to the ventilation network in an unguarded room.

Lan Fan followed, uncomfortable and conflicted. Her responsibility was to the people of the Yao Clan, and not to the people within Amestris. The Xingese were generous to foreigners in need, but there was a difference between generosity to individual foreigners or a group of foreigners and attempting to save everyone in another nation. Whether the people within Amestris became part of a Philosopher's Stone or not shouldn't concern her. If Amestris was depopulated, it would throw the Xingese economy into chaos, but if the Yao Clan was rising to prominence when the Xingese economy fell into tumult, the Yao Clan wouldn't be affected that badly. There was little reason for her to care about whether Amestris was wiped from the continent, and countless reasons she shouldn't care.

Yet at the same time, it didn't feel right turning her back on a danger to countless millions of people, Yao clanspeople or not. For the first time in years, she wasn't certain where her duties, that had been crystal clear for most of her life, lay, outside of giving all her life to the Young Lord. Incomparably worse, if, once they told the Young Lord what they'd learned, the Young Lord was uncertain whether he should return to Xing with the Stone as soon as possible and gain the throne or stay here and fight for Amestris, she didn't know if she could figure out what advice to give him. She might be unable to support the Young Lord, and little else could be as, or more, unforgivable.

But she was determined to figure it out. She hadn't failed the Young Lord before, and she wasn't going to start now. She didn't know where her duties lay, or how to advise the Young Lord, but by the time she and Grandfather had told him what they'd discovered, she'd have crossed that bridge.

She centered herself by imagining the smile that would be on the Young Lord's face when they told him they knew where to find what was now even more likely the secret to immortality, and thought back to all her lessons in Xingese ethics.

.

Lyra Hendrick had short black hair and purple eyes, and wore a black dress with a red skirt and a necklace with a metal ornament at the end that held a circle piece with a design on it at its center; almost certainly her transmutation circle. Her State Alchemist's pocketwatch hung from the left side of her waist as she stood before her desk in her purple-carpeted office and spoke to him and Ling, and Scar once again repressed the urge to lunge for it with his right hand and deconstruct it, followed by Lyra's head.

That wasn't what he was here for, and he'd have plenty of chances to kill Lyra in the future. In addition, murdering Lyra would endanger Fu and Lan Fan, and Scar wasn't the untrustworthy filth Amestrians were. He wasn't going to do something that might harm an ally no matter how powerfully his hatred burned within him.

Lyra smiled. "Then it's settled. You're hired."

She extended her hand out to Ling to shake his, and Ling shook it firmly.

"That's wonderful," Ling smiled. "I had been about to give up hope of finding anyone willing to hire us in Central. You have no idea how long it's been since I've been able to afford a good meal and a warm bed. I'm overjoyed I'll be able to work for you."

"You should be," Lyra said. "You should feel honored you're going to be working for a State Alchemist."

Behind his mask, Scar ground his teeth.

"I am," Ling responded. "Stories of the prowess of the State Alchemist corps have reached even into Xing. I will remember carrying out this job with pride for the rest of my life."

Lyra smiled. "I'm pleased to hear that. Now please, leave me. Report to Second Lieutenant Gillard on the third floor to be assigned your duties for the rest of the day."

Good. They had more freedom to move through the laboratory.

"We'll do that," Ling smiled. "Thank you for your time."

"You're welcome," Lyra spoke, and turned to walk back to her desk.

They headed outside the room, and as soon as they were in the outside, empty white hallway, Ling halted, waited for Scar to stop, and then gave Scar a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry for putting you through that. But I'm impressed at how well you kept your hatred from ruling you. You aren't as lost as I'd feared."

"This was my idea," Scar said. "I knew when I came up with it it might entail witnessing a State Alchemist take pride in his or her position. As for keeping my hatred from ruling me in there… that was never an issue. I'm not an Amestrian. I don't betray those who are depending on me to look out for their welfare, as Amestris did to Ishval.

"But I'm not lost. The Amestrians treated my Ishvalan kin as beneath animals. They showed less regard for our humanity than they show for the lives of cattle they raise to slaughter. The path before me is clear. My right hand must transmute, not to warp matter into a blasphemous form, but to enable alchemy to realize the other role it must fulfill so long as there are creators in the world, that of destruction. My right hand must bring judgment upon the government and the State Alchemists."

"That's not the clarity of reason," Ling responded. "That's the clarity of misdirected emotion. You think you're seeing clearly, but your judgment is just as clouded as most people who let anger and hate rule them. If you were seeing clearly, you'd recognize by administering vengeance, you're treating the Amestrians as despicably as the Amestrians treated the Ishvalans. You've become the thing you hate, and you aren't aware of it."

Scar shrugged. "Does it matter? State Alchemists are human weapons. They cast off their humanity long before I started to treat them as less than beasts. Furthermore, the government spent the lives of their own soldiers to wipe out the Ishvalans. The government is anathema to their own ethnicity. What does it matter if I give them less courtesy than I'd give animals?"

"State Alchemists and the politicians in the government are cared for by friends," Ling replied, "Family members, and lovers who have and will mourn their passing. By murdering people, you're causing those left behind the same pain and hate you felt when you lost your brother and your people. That's what you're bringing about. Those are reasons it matters. Vengeance sows the seeds of nothing but further vengeance; it won't improve things for you or any other surviving Ishvalans at all."

Scar found the concept he'd improve nothing and his actions would just cause further hatred and pain disturbing, but it didn't make him uncertain even slightly. He'd known the State Alchemists he'd murdered must have families, lovers, or friends, although he hadn't thought about it, but even with it brought to his attention it was impossible for him to believe others had, or would, experience the hate and anguish he himself lived with due to his family's and people's murders as a result of him killing any of the monsters he'd slain. He could believe they had or would experience hate and anguish, but nothing like what existed inside him. No family or lover or friend could love inhuman creatures like his victims and those he intended to judge as much as he'd loved his brother and his kinsfolk. Furthermore, that meant, though he wasn't making anything better, he wasn't planting the seeds for further revenge.

"I'm not trying to improve things," Scar spoke. "I can't be a benefit to others. Before you say I could be if I used alchemy to reconstruct, that would make no difference. Alchemists who alter substances can't truly create anything. All alchemists can give birth to are death and abominations of what was once good and valuable." He remembered the Chimera fused together from a little girl and a dog he'd euthanized the day he'd met the supposed Hero of Ishval and clenched his right hand into a fist. "No matter what I do, I can improve nothing."

"Alkahestry began as a medical science," Ling responded. "I doubt its first practitioners would feel the same way. That scar on your head proves you must have been treated by doctors once. Do you think medical doctors can bring about nothing but death?"

 _He plunged the scalpel into the back of the blonde-haired doctor the boy had called Doctor Rockbell behind his heart, then pulled it out and slashed open the throat of the woman, undoubtedly his wife, he'd been shielding with his body._

Scar banished the memory. He was no less certain his murders of the Rockbells _had_ been wrong now than he'd been the day he'd committed them, once his grief and fury and hatred had become more stable, relative to what they'd initially been, and he'd realized what he'd done, but they were also no less in the unfixable past now than they'd been when he'd become aware of his sin. He could still do nothing about his murder of them other than move forward from them.

"No," Scar replied. "Two Amestrian doctors named the Rockbells saved my life near the end of the Civil War. I'm aware medical doctors can nurture life. But practitioners of medical alchemy can create because they're students of medicine, not because their studies of alchemy itself have taught them how to save lives. If they hadn't studied in the field of medicine when researching alchemy, their alchemy would warp and kill the world and the people around it as all other alchemy does."

"Would the Rockbells agree with you?" Ling questioned.

"They're not alive for me to ask." Scar kept emotion out of his voice, but too late he realized that was as much a giveaway as emotion would have been.

Ling's eyes widened in dismay. "You didn't!" he cried, but not loudly.

For an unknown reason, Scar was slightly uncomfortable looking at Ling's face, even through the mask. But he didn't turn away. "A State Alchemist murdered my family when I sustained the wounds the Amestrian doctors treated. Hatred was blinding me then. I'm not saying that justifies it, though; I'm just telling you what happened. I'm aware I was in the wrong that day."

"So you know you're capable of erring in your pursuit of vengeance," Ling said. "In that case, how can you be certain you're not still in error now?"

"Because the State Alchemists and the heads of the military aren't medical doctors willing to treat the enemy in a war," Scar snarled, now tired of this argument for a reason he didn't know. "They're mass murderers by their own choice, whether that choice was to follow orders or to give them. Leave it be, Ling. I've been aware what my path must be for years. I'll freely say I do let my hatred rule me, but it hasn't blinded me since the day my brother was killed. There's no doubt State Alchemists are inhuman monsters with all the atrocities they brought upon my people, and there's no question the same is true of the government officials who ordered them to commit those atrocities. Nor is there any question alchemy is an abomination when it can commit genocide so efficiently. So I can't improve a thing and it's unimportant if I treat my kinsfolk's killers as subhuman. My hatred is not blinding me."

Ling sighed. "Fine. Let's check out the lower floors."

.

Ling led Scar to a long descending staircase branching off from a corridor on the first floor, and then down to two lattice iron doors. Scar thrust his right hand against them, and shattered them in blue light.

The hallway beyond from which the moving aberration in the Dragon's Pulse had come was dark, gray, and curved inwards to the left and right.

"Are you reading anything else unusual?" Scar questioned.

"The sense of people climbing all over each other is clearer here," Ling responded. "The people also feel gathered closer and closer together extending into the distance past the opposite wall. Whatever is causing the abnormalities in Amestris' flow of chi has its source here."

Then perhaps what was wrong with Amestris' alchemy actually _was_ tied to High Command's crimes. If Scar didn't learn anything here, he would recover his brother's notes.

"Where are the localized anomalies now?" Scar asked.

"Still on the first floor of the laboratory," Ling responded, "Although one is moving away from the other now, traveling in this direction. It would be advisable to vacate this area."

Ling strode to the left, and Scar accompanied him.

"Is there a specific reason you chose this direction?" Scar questioned.

"Yes," Ling replied. "I'm reading two regular human chi to the west." Scar's eyes widened. "That's as good a place as any to start."

"The Dragon's Pulse exists within humans?" Scar questioned.

"Yes. The Dragon's Pulse is an energy that flows through all of the planet and all of the life upon, within, and above it. It supports the planet, the body, the mind, and the soul, helping make them what they are."

"That's more proof alchemy shouldn't be practiced," Scar said. "Because these currents are so vital, they should remain undisturbed."

"How vital these currents are prove they _should_ be harnessed," Ling replied. "Because they're so vital, the potential they have for enriching the lives of the people of Xing can't be measured."

Scar didn't say anything back.

Ling led them down the curving corridor past numerous doorways on both sides of the hallway, multiple of them closed by barred doors, and past numerous barred windows. Through the doorways and windows Scar could see darkened rooms that, based on the detritus inside them and the hanging cables, bent and warped pipes, and other signs of disrepair in the corridor that led through them, probably hadn't been used for a long time.

After an unknown amount of time had passed Ling halted in front of one barred door and swung it open. The room inside was empty, with long tables holding lab equipment standing at angles through it, and Ling walked up to the gray concrete wall opposite the entrance and felt around until he pushed a switch that looked no different than the rest of the wall. A part of the wall shaped like a door swung inwards, and Scar looked through it to see a small gray room beyond, obviously a cell, where a girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes hanging loosely past her shoulders in a white shirt and pants was seated on a bed at the side of a short old woman in the same garb, with glasses over her blue eyes and short, dark pink hair that was also loose. There was nothing else in the cell but a small table in one corner, probably for eating and drinking at, and a toilet.

Scar suppressed the urge to curse. This changed things.

The old woman looked over at them. "We haven't seen you before," she spoke. "Don't believe we're going to give you the courtesy of conversation, though. Give us our dinner and leave us in peace."

"Are you being held here against your will?" Ling questioned.

The old woman blinked, and the girl's eyes widened, hope appearing in them. "Yes," the old woman answered warily. "What's it to you?"

"We're not with the researchers in this laboratory," Ling replied. "We're investigating this place," the girl's eyes widened, "in the hopes of learning alchemical secrets that may be valuable to us."

"Are you with Ed and Al!?" the girl cried.

Scar could think of just two people who fit those names if they were used together. "Are you referring to Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and his brother, Alphonse Elric?"

"Yes," the girl spoke. "Do you know them?"

"We've met," Scar responded. "But I'm not affiliated with them." The girl's eyes showed disappointment, surprising Scar. She wasn't asking because the Fullmetal Alchemist was someone who had hurt or threatened her in the past? "Why do you think I'm connected to them, and why do you ask?"

"I was hoping you could take me to them," the girl replied, and Scar pushed aside his impulse to think no one victimized by the government would want to see a State Alchemist. Intellectually, he knew it was possible. "I thought you were connected to them because they're investigating the government themselves."

Scar's eyes widened. Did that mean the Flame Alchemist and the Fullmetal Alchemist were rebelling against the military? Was that why they'd wanted to meet his brother? "I'm sorry," he apologized, "But I'm an enemy of theirs, not an ally." The girl's eyes went wide, and then she glared at him. "I know where they're staying in this city, though, and I'll put aside my enmity towards them long enough for us to take you to them without harming them and leave you with them."

He had no choice. Unless Fu and Lan Fan had learned something, it would mean giving up their chance of finding out anything within Laboratory Three, but he couldn't leave any innocents to continue suffering under the Amestrian government.

The girl gasped, and the hope returned to her eyes, stronger now. But she regarded Scar warily.

He looked at Ling, and Ling nodded. Scar's estimation of the Xingese Prince rose. Unless Ling was deceiving Scar, the young man was willing to give up on potential leads to immortality for the sake of foreigners. Scar's brother might have been wrong about Xingese generosity in general, but Ling might genuinely be someone who didn't care about nationality, race, or ethnicity, or at the least didn't care about them enough those matters would stop him from assisting those in need.

"How can I trust you enough to accompany you?" the girl questioned. "If you're an enemy of Ed's and Al's, you could use me to lure them into a trap."

"Winry," the old woman rebuked her, "We have no choice. This may be our only chance to escape. We have to go with them."

Ling tensed.

Scar cursed. "Is the aberration headed in this direction?" he asked.

"Yes," Ling replied. "And there are six regular human chi with it."

There was no doubt they were coming to check on Winry and the old woman. The six or seven people would have seen the shattered doors, and knew this level had been infiltrated.

Scar faced Winry and the old woman. "You need to decide quickly," he told them. "My companion knows how to read an alchemic energy source, and can tell from that your captors are nearing. If you're going to come with us we need to go now."

Winry clenched her teeth. "All right." She gave Scar a warning look. "But if you try to harm Ed and Al, you'll have to go through me."

Scar took one of the _kunai_ Ling had given him out of the belt of his suit and held it out to Winry. "I told you, I won't hurt them when I bring you to them. But as you have no reason to believe me, you can hold onto this as a weapon you can wield against me if it will cause you to feel more comfortable."

Winry rose from the bed and snatched it from him with her right hand.

The old woman got up as well. "Now that that's settled, let's get out of here, Mister…?"

"You can call me 'Scar,'" Scar spoke, and Winry inhaled sharply and then glared furiously at him. "What is it?"

"You're the murderer who tried to kill Ed and Al and killed Nina," she said, "And caused Ed and Al to blame themselves for her death."

Shock rippled through him. A State Alchemist had a strong enough sense of responsibility he recognized he'd left Scar no choice but to kill Nina to prevent her from becoming a laboratory specimen?

Ling gave Scar a look, but Scar didn't acknowledge it. It didn't matter if the Fullmetal Alchemist had a strong sense of responsibility. He was still a monster.

"Save it for later," the old woman spoke. "Forgive my granddaughter's manners. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, as much as I myself don't care for how you hurt Ed and Al and that you see them as enemies. Thank you for coming to our rescue." She held out her hand for Scar to shake. "We're Pinako and Winry Rockbell."

Scar found himself stiffening slightly, and he was more aware than he wanted to be of the new look Ling was giving him. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. His murder of the Rockbell doctors was in the past, and he had no reason to believe these Rockbells were related to the doctors. There was no reason their family name should bother him this much.

" _By murdering people, you're causing those left behind the same pain and hate you felt when you lost your brother and your people. That's what you're bringing about."_

Scar lowered his eyes a little.

It was impossible to believe anyone could suffer or hate as deeply as he did over the death of a State Alchemist or a member of High Command.

But the Rockbell doctors hadn't been inhuman monsters. It was extremely difficult to believe anyone could feel the agony and hate he did because he'd killed _any_ Amestrian, but he could believe it was possible people did because he'd murdered the doctors.

Scar had no choice. He needed to know if Pinako and Winry were related to the doctors. In addition, if they were, he needed to tell them he'd killed them. He couldn't condone revenge for wrongdoing and not give those he might have wronged the option of taking vengeance of their own. He'd fight back if the Rockbells tried to avenge the doctors, because anyone who assaulted him became his enemy, and if they continued to attempt to avenge the doctors after he brought them to safety he'd kill them if he had to, but he still needed to give them the option.

"'Rockbell?'" he questioned. "Are you related to the Rockbell doctors who treated the sick and injured on both sides of the Ishvalan Civil War?"

Winry gasped. "Yes. They were my parents." Scar found himself uncomfortable looking at her and her grandmother. Scar was even more aware of Ling's expression now, one that currently appeared torn between approval and worry about the _kunai_ Winry held. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'll tell you when we get out of here," Scar replied. "Let's move."

.

"If you forgot what she forgot, that every life is precious, then you're no better than her. Take care not to become what you fight against."-Weird Sister

"Vengeance can only lead to a vicious cycle of further vengeance."-Weird Sister

GARGOYLES:

CITY OF STONE, PART I


	13. Scars Left By Doctors

.

 **CHAPTER 13:**

 **SCARS LEFT BY DOCTORS**

.

Scar kept himself pressed inside the wall to the side of the open doorway to the abandoned room, listening closely to the seven pairs of footsteps approaching down the corridor to the right of the door. They were ceasing to near at intervals and a number of them were spreading out, and Scar knew the people were looking into the rooms at the side of the hallway for the intruder or intruders.

They'd had to return this way, however, and gamble the approaching people would head for the cell without looking into the other rooms. They didn't know any other way out of this level.

But their gamble had failed. They were going to have to fight.

Scar shifted into a more ready position as multiple pairs of footsteps gathered in the hall between the two rooms on the two sides of the corridor that were to the right of this one, and Ling drew his sword.

They waited as the footsteps came closer, and Scar and Ling gestured at Winry and Pinako to take cover behind the long tables standing in the room. Pinako and Winry did, and Scar and Ling waited until Scar heard the footsteps stop next to the entrance to this room–

Running faster than Scar had thought Ling was capable of moving, running even swifter than Scar himself could move, Ling charged out of the room and swung his sword into the throat of a male with a drawn sword in a white shirt and blue pants, severing his head from his neck. By the time it hit the floor Scar was out in the hallway and the other swordsmen were quietly falling back to the sides of the brown-robed figure, wearing a gray mask, in their midst in unison, faces expressionless and showing no signs of surprise or shock or having been caught off guard. They leveled their swords. Scar feinted at the brown-robed person, then broke to the swordsman nearest him or her on his or her left relative to the direction Scar was facing–

The fingers on each hand of the brown-robed figure shifted into two large webs with sharp edges at the front, top, and bottom of each strand and shot forward at Scar and Ling at the ends of merged finger parts.

Scar's eyes widened, but he recovered himself in time to jump to the side of the webs, pushing his fury someone or multiple people had probably transmuted a Chimera combining a human and a spider from his mind, the edges of one of the webs slicing through the right side of his black suit and tearing a section of it off. The webs might have been sticky too, for the pieces of his suit remained on the web that had taken them off. Ling had landed in a crouch to the far side of the other web and was swinging up with his sword, severing the hand behind the merged fingers, doubtlessly because the merged fingers and web might be sticky. Scar slapped the floor with his right hand, and in coursing blue, it exploded upwards into the other merged fingers behind the web nearest him, ripping them apart.

"Destruction through transmutation," the Chimera commented in a genderless voice as professional as a soldier or officer's, and Scar suppressed his shock the Chimera sounded this human as he got up. "You must be Scar. We've been looking for you."

Scar didn't respond. He lunged for the Chimera's head with his right hand, but then the three swordsmen to his left were moving in with surprising swiftness of their own and slashing and he was forced to pull to the side and keep moving back. He was aware the pieces of the Chimera's merged fingers, hand, and webs were disintegrating into the air and red was coursing over the stumps of his or her right merged fingers and the portion of his or her left hand attached to his or her body, and wondered what that meant, but the swordsmen didn't give him any openings to kill the Chimera before he or she could spring whatever surprise or surprises he or she had up his or her sleeve. They swung their blades so quickly and fought as a team so well, one slashing when another's strike had moved enough out of the way it left a gap his companion could slice through, or two or three of them cutting at him from multiple directions simultaneously or in sequence, they didn't give him any openings to do anything but evade. Two were attempting to maneuver around him towards the door they knew their prisoners might be behind, and Scar knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in front of them for much longer without backing into the doorway. He clenched his teeth. There was no other way. He'd let them back him into the doorway so he'd have them all in front of him, then let his left hand be torn up by seizing one of the swords so he could drag one of the swordmasters up to his body and use that adversary as a living shield that would give him time to deconstruct the floor beneath the other two swordmasters.

Ling ran over to Scar, then jumped onto Scar's shoulders and somersaulted backwards at the two swordsmen behind him. The swordmasters jumped back, raising their blades in concert to parry, but Ling threw his blade to his mouth as he fell through the air, caught it in his teeth, and charged one of the swordsmen, ramming his sword into that figure's blade. The other combatant swung down at Ling's side, but Ling reached up with his free hand and caught the sword between two fingers and moved the sword so his enemy had an awkward grip on it, then used those fingers to pull the sword out of the swordsman's hand while his hold was bad. The weaponless swordmaster moved back and the one whose blade was locked with the Xingese Prince's did as well, but Ling brought his free hand over to the sword he held by the blade, shifted it so he was holding it between both hands, and rammed its handle into the throat of the weaponless swordsman, crushing it. The swordmaster fell, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

As Ling struck at the weaponless swordsman, his other adversary ran forward into a low sweeping kick, but Ling was too fast. He released the sword he held by the blade, opened his mouth and grabbed the handle of his own blade, and swung it down into the other swordmaster's legs, severing them at the knees. The swordsman fell, not showing any evidence of pain, and one of the figures fighting Scar back ran behind the Chimera to try to save his comrade.

Scar raced into the opening his former opponent left as it appeared and slapped the floor, and it erupted below his other two enemies in currents of blue. They jumped up and black, landing on chunks of floor as they flew through the air and keeping their balance as the chunks fell to the ruined area of the floor beneath. Scar didn't give them the chance to go on the offensive again, touching the floor another time and shattering it further in more crackling blue, forcing them to jump another time.

Ling swung down at the crippled swordsman's chest and when the swordsman blocked, slid the point of his blade over to the handle of the swordmaster's blade and brought the point inside the handle, pulling the sword out of the crippled combatant's hand, and then Ling stabbed down with his own blade into the swordsman's head. He caught the hilt of his now dead opponent's sword while it was still falling through the air and hurled it into the forehead of the adversary running to engage him.

Then bladed webs launched out from the Chimera's hands at Scar and Ling again.

Caught even more by surprise this time, Scar was barely able to throw himself to the floor swiftly enough to dodge. He was able to, though, and touched the floor with his right hand, activated a transmutation, and threw more floor portions into a set of merged fingers, tearing them into parts. Ling was able to react quickly enough to throw himself to the side of the fingers headed for him with less effort, however, and once more slashed cleanly through the figure's left hand.

Scar was shocked. The person was no Chimera. What was he or she?

The two surviving swordmasters now moved to the figure's sides, watching their opponents warily, and Scar rose.

Ling smiled unpleasantly. "Your healing abilities are impressive. Would I be correct to assume you're immortal?"

"You wouldn't be," the figure replied in the same genderless, professional voice. "But I'm not frail like you humans are." Scar's eyes widened. "Your battle skills are more impressive than any human I've met before. You killed four of Wrath's leftovers, humans who have devoted their entire lives to mastering the harshest combat training we can give them, for decades, with little trouble. It would be interesting to see how you'd fare against Wrath himself. Regretfully, I won't have the opportunity to witness that. A twig like you can never snap me. There's just one way this can end."

The person gestured to the swordsmen to stay close to him or her.

"We'll see," Ling rejoined.

His expression was uneasy, though. The swordmasters would almost certainly restrict themselves to defending themselves and the figure, now, leaving less openings Ling could take advantage of, and Scar knew he was overmatched when two of the 'leftovers' fought in concert. There was a good chance the two of them wouldn't be able to slay the remaining swordsmen as easily as the Xingese Prince had killed the other four, and that might leave the robed person free to attack them from long range without defending himself or herself until he or she thought of a strategy for fighting them with his or her webs that killed them. Further, that assumed he or she needed to defend himself or herself at all. Their adversaries also had the advantage of not having to guard the nearby chamber.

Then an explosion echoed down the corridor, and smoke came flowing down it from the direction of the eruption. Seconds later, a grenade sailed out of the smoke at the figure. The two swordmasters jumped to the side, and the robed person tried to leap back, but he or she was too slow. It detonated in fire, throwing portions of his or her body and blood throughout the hall. Most of the pieces of his or her body started disintegrating, and red crackled over one of the hargest pieces, the piece beginning to grow flesh and bone and muscle that would doubtlessly take the shape of a completely restored figure, but Scar and Ling moved.

Scar raced back into the room nearby and slung Winry over his left shoulder, and Ling did the same to Pinako. The two swordmasters ran through the doorway to intercept them, but Ling had anticipated that and he was charging to meet them as they entered the room. He sliced at the stomach of one of his opponents, and that adversary blocked and the other cut at Ling's forehead, but Ling jumped up, bringing the pommel of his blade over to knock the strike at his forehead aside, and then slashed at the now open swordsman and opened his neck. The remaining swordmaster swung at Ling while he was in midair and attacking his companion, but again the Xingese Prince was too swift. He dropped his sword, in no position to block his other enemy's attack, before the assault could connect, and then feel into a backflip, catching his sword with his knees and bringing it into his opponent's weapon, blocking the slice. In the air, Ling had no leverage to halt the blow, and it sent him flying back away from the blade, but the Xingese Prince was able to flip again and land on his feet. He rushed the swordsman, twisted behind the swordmaster's lunging slash at his midsection, and then Ling brought his free hand down on the wrist of the hand of his opponent that held the sword.

The swordsman lost his hold on the blade, Ling seized it, and brought the handle into the swordmaster's neck, snapping it.

"We can't test if the masked person's regenerative abilities have limits!" Ling shouted, retrieving his sword and reattaching it to his waist. "The grenade explosion may have alerted others here!"

"I know!" Scar cried, running for the doorway and turning in the direction from which the smoke had come.

As they ran through the smoke, they were joined by Fu and Lan Fan.

"There's been a change of plans!" Ling shouted. "The government was holding innocents prisoner here! We have to get them out, and forget about unraveling this place's secrets!"

"Don't worry!" Lan Fan responded. "Fu and I already have, and you two both made a better choice than you'd imagined! _Everything_ we've been seeking is here, save for the transmutation circle for forming a Philosopher's Stone!"

Scar experienced the closest thing to happiness he was capable of feeling. At last. He would know what his people had suffered and died for.

Ling smiled. "Then it appears the maxim once again proves true. 'To attain your desire, aid the downtrodden.'" He looked at Scar. "When I use the Stone to transmute an immortal human and acquire the throne, I'll show my gratitude for this by setting aside land in Xing for the surviving Ishvalans to dwell in and rebuild their culture."

Scar's eyes widened, but he suppressed the surge of hope. After what had happened when Ishval had become part of Amestris, he was never going to trust the Ishvalans would be able to live decent lives as part of another country again. In addition, if any other Ishvalans had lived through the extermination, he was almost certain he was by far not the only Ishvalan who felt that way.

"I'm thankful for the offer," Scar responded, "But I'm unwilling to make the mistake of relying on another nation to improve our way of life again, and if any other Ishvalans are alive, most or all of my kinsmen and kinswomen likely share that sentiment. If things work out for you, and I have people to spread word of your offer among, I'll tell them about it, but I doubt many will accept it."

Ling sighed.

They reached the staircase to the first floor and, before they turned the corner to ascend it, Fu pulled a cylinder out of an opening in his clothes and threw it around the corner. There was a blinding flash of white light, and Scar heard cries of pain from atop the staircase.

It must have been a flash bomb.

They raced up the staircase into the brilliance and through Amestrian soldiers holding their eyes into the hallway and more Amestrian soldiers beyond, and when they neared the edges of the bright area Lan Fan hurled another smoke bomb. Scar covered his mouth with his free hand before it could erupt, and once the corridor was filled with smoke they ran in the direction of the exit. When they'd proceeded far enough down corridors and around corners the smoke was sufficiently thin, Fu threw a smoke bomb of his own ahead of them.

They passed around more corners and, when they were in thinner smoke, Fu took out another smoke bomb, but he didn't throw it. They could see soldiers retreating ahead of them, no doubt intending to take positions in the lobby and open fire once they heard the doors to it open. So, once the six of them reached the double doors opening into the lobby, Scar touched the wall to the side of them, sending blue currents through it, and sent a large part of the wall around and above the doors collapsing into the lobby in a pile. They rushed up to the pile, taking cover behind it, and Fu threw his smoke bomb around one corner. It went off and then they were at the wooden doors to the outside.

Scar touched the wall to the side of those doors and sent more blue coursing up the wall into the tall multi-story window stretching up most of the height of the laboratory, and blew it outwards. As the glass of the window erupted, hopefully drawing the attention of the soldiers inside and outside, Fu kicked the doors open and hurled a second flash bomb, then the four of them pressed themselves to the walls beside the door.

A storm of bullets sailed through the area before and within the doorway from inside the lobby, but Scar's distraction had given them the time they'd needed to dodge. Blinding light exploded outside, and then Scar slapped the wall and blue energies sent a large area of the wall surrounding the doors falling outwards. The soldiers in the smoke cloud in the lobby stopped firing, now aware they didn't know where to aim and they had a chance of hitting their fellows outside if they fired, and then the four of them were outside and racing through the brightly lit front yard past blinded soldiers and two blinded researchers. Lan Fan took out a grenade, bit down on the handle at the top of its wire with her teeth and pulled the top off, then threw it at the iron gates. They were shattered in detonating fire, and then the four of them reached the sidewalks outside and sprinted down the one to their right, free.

.

Scar set Winry down in a sitting position on a box in the alleyway, and waited until Ling put Pinako on her feet to take off his mask and turn to Fu. He handed it to Fu and then questioned, "What did you discover?"

"We overheard the woman you must have met talking with a researcher," Fu spoke back. "Your people were massacred so their blood would become part of a transmutation circle the size of Amestris."

Scar's eyes went wide in complete shock, and for a number of seconds his mind couldn't process those words. Then molten hatred utterly consumed all of what he was. He clenched his hands into fists so hard his nails drew blood from his palms.

Alchemy hadn't just been used to exterminate his people!? They'd been slaughtered so they could contribute to the transmutation of something so abominable it made other alchemic creations appear as if specks of dust in comparison, if even that!?

The Fϋhrer was due to return to Central by tonight, but that he'd be as well guarded as usual again didn't matter. Nor did it matter if his death would cause people who cared for him to mourn him and hate Scar as much as Scar now hated Bradley. Before tomorrow dawned, he would be dead by Scar's hands after suffering the worst tortures Scar could inflict on him with his ability to deconstruct the human body, or Scar would die in the attempt to make him pay.

He ground his teeth. Peripherally, he registered Pinako and Winry weren't reacting audibly or visually, but he didn't care why the slightest amount. "What is this circle meant to transmute?" he asked through his teeth.

"A Philosopher's Stone," Fu replied. "A unique one, many times larger than a regular Stone. The ingredients for a Philosopher's Stone are living human souls." Ling swore, and as much as he hated Amestris, Scar felt his stomach churn. "Amestris' true ruler, a power behind Fϋhrer Bradley's throne the woman referred to as her father, wants this Stone to control something he calls the world's knowledge."

Scar looked at Ling, whose eyes were wide. "Do you still think alchemy can give birth to anything worthwhile? When it can create abominations like _these_?"

Ling crossed his arms. "Gunpowder can be used to ignite fireworks and grenades. Are fireworks less valuable because grenades are used to kill?"

"Alchemy has yet to produce a firework," Scar replied. "There's no analogy."

He took a long, deep breath, then let the air out. Then he did it again, and again, until the hatred within himself had calmed to the point it didn't feel like it would melt him alive.

In its place was something he didn't care for at all.

The awareness most Amestrians were just as much victims of their state military as his brother and parents and people had been.

He clenched his teeth and pushed that awareness aside.

"That tells me what I want to know." He inclined his head at Fu. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Fu responded.

But that left him with another question. If the father of the woman with the inhuman abilities was the one responsible for the genocide of his people, and not Bradley, would he be able to kill that person?

Part of him spoke it didn't matter. The father of the woman had ordered his people dead, so it didn't matter if his chances of repaying the person in kind might be low. He had to try.

But the more rational part of him knew that was stupid. There was no point getting himself killed if he wouldn't be able to avenge anyone in the process. He'd have to learn more about what this mysterious family was capable of before he went after its patriarch.

"So we know how to create the Stone," Ling spoke. "I take it the localized anomalies of chi were Stones, and we know where to find them, as well."

"Not just the localized abnormalities," Fu replied. "The anomalies below the surface too."

Ling's eyes widened, and Scar clenched his teeth. That meant the very ground his people had walked on in Ishval had been polluted by the Amestrians. It appeared there was _nothing_ the monsters in this nation wouldn't do in their pursuit of self-aggrandizement by corrupting the natural order Ishvala had intended for the world to have.

"The father of the woman is immortal," Fu was going on. "He's been alive since the last days of Xerxes, and turned everyone in Xerxes into portions of a Stone." Ling cursed. "He had enough souls he could break off another Stone from his enormous Stone and spread one to the edges of Amestris." Ling's eyes went wider. "Furthermore, he may be using Stones to give life to an army of humanoid mannequins he's promised High Command can use to ensure Amestris reigns over all other nations in the world." Scar snarled. Bigoted bastards. "This promise, though, is empty. I don't know what the mannequins genuinely are, but they're not an obedient army. He's tricked High Command into serving him with the lure of glory and immortality – he's also promised to give High Command immortality when he obtains the world's knowledge – but he's just using them." It didn't bother Scar in the least the members of High Command were also victims. They'd commanded their army to exterminate his people for their own self-interest. He was pleased High Command had been duped. That meant, even if he failed to murder them, and even if they succeeded in betraying Amestris, they wouldn't achieve anything by doing so.

"There are plenty of places we can find Philosopher's Stones," Fu was saying. "Further, I'm sure you know what the immortality possessed by Amestris' true ruler means. We might have real evidence the Stone can confer immortality.

"As further evidence, the woman is immortal herself. The woman and the researcher discussed how her family has been alive centuries longer than 'natural humans,'" what? "can live."

"The woman herself told us she's not immortal," Ling spoke back. "As she told us this after her body had regenerated from serious injuries," now Lan Fan's eyes widened, "She had no reason to pretend to have that weakness. But we _do_ have true evidence the Stone can bestow immortality. If the Philosopher's Stone has something to do with how the woman was able to heal, and has something to do with this family's longevity, those things themselves make it more likely the Stone can grant immortality."

Ling looked at Scar. "The woman said she and her colleagues had been looking for you. If I stick with you, we may encounter the mysterious family again. And we need to capture one of them. If the Stone can transmute an immortal person, we need to know how. Would that be all right with you?"

Scar shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm sure it doesn't matter whether I'm okay with it, however. There's no way you'd be willing to pass up the opportunity I now provide you. If I had problems with it, you'd shadow me."

Ling smiled in amusement. "Guilty as charged."

He gave Ling a warning look. "But don't interfere when I go after a State Alchemist or government official. You're not involved in my vendetta, so stay out of it."

Ling sighed deeply. "Fine."

"And on those lines," Scar found himself uncomfortable, and pushed it away. "As Lan Fan and Fu have filled us in…"

He turned and walked back so he could face Winry and Pinako at the same time, and bowed his head. "You wished to know why I asked if you were related to the Rockbell doctors. I have a confession to make, one you deserve to hear." The discomfort returned, and Scar pushed it away again. The past was unchangeable. "Near the end of the Ishvalan War of Extermination, a State Alchemist attacked my family and myself and killed everyone but me. I would have died myself if the Rockbells hadn't saved my life." Winry smiled, clearly pleased to hear of her parents saving someone, and Scar suppressed the urge to wince. She wasn't going to be smiling much longer. "But out of grief and hatred for the deaths of my brother and the rest of my family, I repaid them for saving my life by murdering them."

Winry's eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped, and Pinako inhaled sharply.

"Wh… What?" Winry asked, disbelief and a pain Scar was all too familiar with in her voice. The discomfort returned another time, and this time it didn't feel right to push it away. "You're kidding, right…? You're just trying to hurt me to get to Ed and Al, aren't you?"

"Your father had short blonde hair and blue eyes," Scar responded, keeping emotion out of his voice, "And I killed him by stabbing him through the heart from the back. Your mother had blue eyes and blonde hair in a ponytail, and I killed her by cutting her throat. I'm sure you heard the results of the autopsy."

Winry's mouth moved, but no words came out of it. Then tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled down her face and she started to shake, shakes that quickly become violent. Pinako squeezed her eyes shut tightly, clenching her teeth, shaking herself, though not violently. Scar experienced an unexpected surge of sympathy.

"It's true…?" Winry questioned, and now there was measurelessly more of that pain in her voice. "My parents saved your life… and you butchered them…? No… that can't be true… they showed you compassion, took you in, treated your wounds, kept you alive… I know people can be horrible to their fellows, but this… no one could do that… you couldn't have done that… you could never have done that…"

Her head fell forward, and she wrapped her left arm around herself, holding herself as she shook and cried. "No… no… why… all they wanted was to save other people…"

Then she appeared to become aware she was holding Lan Fan's _kunai_ in her right hand, for her grip tightened on it.

"Winry!" Pinako yelled. "Don't even think it!"

Winry's hand came up, gripping the handle of the _kunai_ tightly and pointing it at him, and her head came up, and Scar's eyes widened.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The anguish and grief and the despair and the desperate plea in her eyes and tears, the hate in those eyes and clenched teeth… they were the same things he saw in his own eyes every time he looked in a real mirror.

" _Give them back!_ " she screamed, the hand holding the _kunai_ shaking so hard she couldn't keep it aimed at him. " _Give my Mom and Dad back!_ "

" _By murdering people, you're causing those left behind the same pain and hate you felt when you lost your brother and your people. That's what you're bringing about."_

Something sick twisted inside him. Now that he was so directly face to face with the same anguish and hate he experienced, there was no way he could deny Ling was right. And not just about those who loved the Rockbell doctors. The State Alchemists and High Command were monsters, but with Winry before him, seeing Winry's eyes and expression, it was impossible not to be fully aware Winry was no different from the people who cared for State Alchemists, the Fϋhrer, and the Generals of High Command. Those who cared for them weren't the least amount less human than Winry was, and weren't the least bit less capable of the emotion she was, so if Winry hated Scar as much as he hated Amestris for slaughtering his brother and parents and people, those who loved Scar's other victims and intended victims could be doing, and could do, the same.

The revenge he'd been taking _had_ been sowing more of the agony and hate Scar felt. In Winry, in the families and friends and lovers of the State Alchemists he'd killed, in those who loved the soldiers and military police he'd murdered when they'd gotten in his way. By avenging his brother and parents, Scar was torturing people as the State Alchemists and Amestrian government and the family controlling the government behind the scenes had tormented him.

Furthermore, he'd been sowing the seeds of new vengeance. It was unarguable Ling was right about that, too.

For the first time since he'd seen the ruins of the city he'd once lived in, he was unsure of the trail he'd set himself upon.

"He can't!" Pinako's voice was whipcrack sharp. "Yuriy and Sarah are dead! Nothing can return them to you now! Put that knife down, Winry! _Now!_ "

But that didn't mean Scar could turn back. The dead demanded restitution from those who had killed them, and Scar loved his parents and his brother. How could Scar call himself a compassionate Ishvalan, or his family's child and younger sibling, if he walked away from the torture that had devoured them and their deaths?

He could never turn back from the road he'd set himself upon. No matter how horrifically he himself was wronging others, he had no choice but to move forward.

Scar shifted his eyes over to face Pinako, but kept Winry within his vision so he'd be able to defend himself if she struck. "It's all right," he said. "I can't give you back your children, but we can't turn our eyes from death. We have a responsibility to those we care about who have fallen; to carry the memories of their lives inside us for the rest of ours, and protect those memories. She's defending their legacy;" Winry jolted violently, and her hand became the most infinitesimal amount steadier, "If she wants to try to kill me, let her. She'll become my enemy, but I deserve to have her as an enemy."

"The dead are gone!" Pinako yelled back. "She can't protect phantoms! And my granddaughter isn't a killer! I won't have her attempting to murder someone!" She raced in front of Winry, whose tear-streaked face was growing more agonized and hateful, her teeth clenching harder. "Drop the knife, Winry! I know how you feel! I want to slug that bastard in the face as hard as I can! But if I did, I'd be no different than him! Don't you see!? You're the same as him now! Your parents saved his life and he killed them to avenge his family, and now he saved ours and you want to kill him to avenge ours! If you assault him, you'll become him!"

The thought of that caused Scar to feel even sicker, but it made no sense to feel that way. That wouldn't be a bad thing. Even though Ling was right, it didn't change anything. Scar's people and parents and brother shouldn't have suffered and been slaughtered. Scar couldn't turn away from those things as if they meant nothing. Additionally, the Amestrians who had murdered them were guilty monsters, and they needed to be judged. The same was true of Winry and himself.

Pinako reached up for the _kunai_ , but that motion must have made Winry more aware of what was going on around her, for she jolted and then got quickly to her feet on the box she'd been sitting on so it was out of Pinako's reach, and continued to point it at Scar unsteadily. Pinako glared at her granddaughter and began to climb up the box, but Winry jumped down off it and ran out into the alley.

Pinako glared at Ling, who, to Scar's gratitude, was standing back and staying out of this and, by doing so, keeping his retainers out of this too. "Don't just stand there!" she yelled furiously. "I know Scar's your companion, but this isn't Xing! Children aren't trained to kill from birth in Amestris like people in your clans are! Winry has never pointed a weapon at someone with the urge to kill before in her life! Her hands are innocent and unstained, untouched by a world of killing," Ling's eyes widened, "And I'd rather Scar kill me too than see her corrode them with a single drop of blood!"

But being confronted with the awareness she was about to have her opportunity to avenge her parents taken away from her was apparently too much for Winry.

She _screamed_ and charged at Scar, grip still shaking, thrusting the _kunai_ at his throat.

Even greater sickness twisting inside him, experiencing a disappointment he didn't understand, Scar stepped forward to meet her, twisted inside the blow, and brought his right palm into the surface of the _kunai_ , breaking it into pieces in blue currents with a careful transmutation and making its shards explode hard enough to sting Winry's hand and cause her to release what was left of the weapon, but not hard enough to badly wound her hand.

Then Scar drove his left hand into her stomach with precise force, and Winry doubled over, the breath rushing out of her lungs, and fell to her knees.

Pinako reached her granddaughter and wrapped her arms around Winry's shoulders in a hold meant to be both comforting and restraining.

Winry just knelt there for a number of seconds, gasping for breath, tears falling down her face, her injured right hand turned palm up.

Then her eyes fell upon the blood emerging from the numerous gashes the shards of the _kunai_ had left in her palm, and her eyes widened in utter horror.

Scar's eyes went wide. Why was she horrified? He'd saved her from captivity, yes, but unlike her parents, he _had_ murdered people she cared about.

Winry turned her face to the side and retched violently, and Scar looked on in shock, further sickness twisting inside him, as she retched violently until her stomach was empty and then dry heaved and dry heaved. Scar could tell Pinako wanted to release Winry and stroke her back with her hands to ease the pain of Winry's throwing up, but Pinako knew it was too risky. If she did, Winry might attack Scar again.

Winry must feel horrible because she'd never tried to kill someone before. There was no other explanation that made sense.

Scar didn't know how much time had passed when Winry's retching finally subsided, and her gaze traveled over to her right hand, that was now pressed palm down against the alley floor in spite of how pieces of the _kunai_ were embedded in a number of her cuts. It remained there, staring sightlessly down at her hand through her tears.

After a period of time passed, Pinako appeared to become reasonably sure Winry wasn't going to assault Scar once again, and looked up at Scar. "You said you know where the Elrics are. Once I've treated Winry's injuries, could you please take us to them? Winry needs them."

"We'll have to arrange to meet them somewhere else," Ling told her. "Your captors know you two are gone now, and I'm sure they know of your connections to the Fullmetal Alchemist. One of the first places they'll look is at the location they're residing. We need to find a safe place elsewhere in Central, further away from Laboratory Three, and then I'll send Lan Fan to bring them to us."

"That's a good idea," Pinako responded. "We were taken prisoner in the first place to be used as hostages to coerce Ed and Al into ending their treason."

So the Fullmetal Alchemist and the Flame Alchemist _had_ revolted. Scar ground his teeth. That meant the Hero of Ishval truly might not have known his military had wanted the Ishvalans massacred from the beginning, and if he hadn't, that meant Scar couldn't kill him unless Mustang got in his way. Further, it meant he couldn't kill the Fullmetal Alchemist unless the boy attempted to thwart Scar. They were State Alchemists, but so long as the Flame Alchemist hadn't known of the government's and their puppetmasters' plans from the start, Scar couldn't murder either of them when they were just as opposed to the barbarity of the leaders of Amestris as he was.

For an unknown reason, though, that didn't bother him as much as it should have, and he wasn't as disgusted with himself or as guilty as he should have been for abandoning his brother and parents and people this way. He suppressed the urge to look at Winry again, and it also didn't bother him as much as it should have he was that concerned for her at a time like this.

What was happening to him? Ling was correct, and what Scar had done to Winry and Pinako was atrocious, but none of that should have caused him to care less about avenging his people and his brother. Those who had been slaughtered needed to have their memories protected, and Scar loved his family and his kinsfolk. How could he be so apathetic things could cause him to care less about his brother and parents and people and their torture?

But no matter how many times Scar told himself he was abandoning his brother and family and kinsfolk by not feeling, and feeling, these ways, he couldn't feel more than a little more bothered or disgusted or guilty.

.

The Dwarf in the Flask was reading a book, a tome he'd retrieved from the library of Hohenheim's master before he'd left Xerxes, that compiled various hypotheses and theories about whether plants, germs, and non-living matter had Portals of Truth, when he heard his daughter open the double doors into his castle and her footsteps approaching. He looked up, but his daughter's face was as much a mask as it had been since the Flame Alchemist had interfered with them at Liore, and it offered no signs as to whether anything was wrong.

The Dwarf in the Flask experienced a small surge of worry, but he pushed it aside as he'd pushed his worry aside every other time he'd felt it. It didn't matter how long his daughter had been masking her thoughts and feelings. If he spent time worrying about what was hurting his daughter, he'd burden himself and that would shackle his freedom, and his freedom was more important than his daughter's pains.

The Dwarf in the Flask hoped if something had happened, it wasn't anything more than a human's usual ant bite. Due to the challenge they'd confronted inscribing the crest of blood into Liore before the height of the upcoming solar eclipse ended until the mysterious living Stone had given them a certain means of getting back on schedule, and with that living Stone defying them in the South, the insects had occupied enough of his time he could have been devoting to more important matters, such as his studies. He didn't want to spend any additional quantities of time that large on the resources.

He was very mildly intrigued who the unknown living Stone who knew of him and his dream was, how she had become a living Stone, how she knew of him and his desires, and how she had learned how to transmute two pure Homunculi, and perhaps more, but she was still a human even though her Philosopher's Stone body made her above humans, so that intrigue wasn't enough to make spending time thinking about and discussing how to neutralize her worthwhile. In addition, he was displeased to know he had at least two Homunculi half-siblings out there trapped in flasks and intended to discover how many Homunculi the woman had transmuted and rescue them so he could set them free once he became God, but their plight didn't make spending time on the woman worthwhile. It gave him responsibilities that did shackle his freedom, and that made spending time on the woman worse than worthless. It made it an existing burden. Once he rescued his siblings, he was going to assign his children to take care of them until the time came to give them Stone bodies, and once he did, he was going to send them on their way. He sympathized with the Homunculi, but his freedom was more important than supporting them.

If he had to spend even more large quantities of time on the resources, he wouldn't be happy.

"Why are you here?" he asked when his daughter reached his throne.

"We finally found Scar," his daughter replied. "He infiltrated Laboratory Three with three other humans, found the Rockbells, and rescued them."

Good. This was a problem, but it wasn't a true problem. If they failed to recapture the Rockbells the Elric brothers might alert the people of Amestris what the Dwarf in the Flask was planning, but there was just a small chance they'd do that. If they'd been going to, they probably would have after the Freezer Alchemist had told them about the Dwarf in the Flask's plot, so they probably wouldn't now. The Elric brothers would be a threat again, but his children could deal with that.

"Have you sent out Gluttony to track Scar?" the Dwarf in the Flask questioned.

"Yes," his daughter replied. "In addition, I've informed High Command of the situation, and they've mobilized the military and military police to search for Scar and keep an eye on the Elrics. But we both know they're unlikely to find Scar in a city as large as Central before one of Scar's companions brings the Elrics to meet the Rockbells, eluding those watching the Elrics in the process, and the Rockbells and the Elrics depart the city. There's a chance Scar won't bring the Rockbells to the Elrics, given his hatred of State Alchemists, but I doubt it. The Rockbells were victims like the Ishvalans, so Scar almost certainly sympathizes with them. The Rockbells and the Elrics will probably reunite and flee Central, and then we won't be able to find them."

"It doesn't matter," the Dwarf in the Flask reassured her. "We need to be more on our guard than we were before, but that's just because wisdom recommends caution after what Mustang accomplished. The Elric brothers aren't a genuine danger to us, and they'll return to Central sooner or later to attempt to defeat us, so at worst, we'll be able to neutralize them by imprisoning them or killing them then. Try to find them and recapture the Rockbells, but if you can't, don't worry. This is a difficulty we can overcome with ease."

"What about Scar and his allies?" his daughter questioned. "One of his allies killed all six of the Wrath leftovers who had accompanied me to meet Jackson. Scar has become an even greater danger to us now."

"Not enough of a threat Pride won't be able to kill him and his companions," the Dwarf in the Flask spoke. "I'll continue to entrust Pride with neutralizing Scar."

"Very well," his daughter answered. She was quiet for a few seconds, and then asked, "Do you have any ideas for a new training regimen we can give the Wrath leftovers? They were outmatched by Scar's companion. We should do our best to ensure they won't be at such a disadvantage again."

"I have an idea," the Dwarf in the Flask responded. "It isn't a training regimen, but it should improve their ability to combat their opponents much more than any training regimen can."

.

Ed was sitting in his chair where he sat at his desk in his room at _The Nickel Phial_ , drawing an alkahestry transmutation circle while Al sat silently with Julia at their table as she ate her dinner in their room. The Cenz he would pay the automail engineer tomorrow who had agreed to fix his arm were stacked at one corner of the desk.

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," he said. He rose from his chair, walked over to the door, and opened it, to be met with the sight of Maes Hughes.

Hughes smiled, but it was clearly forced, and his face was filled with grief and agony, and Edward knew Hughes had heard about Hawkeye and the Colonel. "It's been a while, Ed," he greeted. "Can I come in?"

Edward looked out into the hall. "Who's watching you?"

"No one," Hughes whispered. "Bradley doesn't believe I'm enough of a threat by myself to be worth the trouble of watching as frequently as he watches Mustang, although I'm certain he won't let me meet with the Colonel unsupervised under any circumstances. I knew that would change if I met with you too often, however, so I haven't come to see you since you arrived in Central, and I'm sorry for that. But after I heard the news, I had to pay you a visit." There was no need for him to say what 'the news' was. "The Fϋhrer's not going to let me see Mustang until he's settled back in at the Command Center."

Ed stood out of the way. "Come in."

He shut the door behind the Lieutenant Colonel, and then questioned, "What do you know?"

Any forced happiness at seeing them vanished from Hughes' face, and he looked agonized and exhausted beyond fathoming. He passed his hand over his face. "That Hawkeye gave her life to shield Mustang from a suicide bomb blast," Hughes replied, "And Mustang attempted to murder the officer responsible and was shot for the effort, and is now in a holding cell in Central Command.

"Could you please tell me, if you're aware? Does Mustang still care about his career?"

Edward couldn't face Hughes, and looked away. He was aware Al was looking down where he sat at the table. "No," Ed responded. "Nor about gaining the Fϋhrer's position." If Hughes was surprised Ed was aware Mustang had sought to become Fϋhrer, he didn't show it. "He's given up on everything he's wanted to accomplish as an officer. He spoke about how he'd wanted to create a system where people could defend those surrounding them, and losing Hawkeye meant it was a fairy story, so he doesn't see any point in continuing to work for his goals."

Hughes sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "That's what I thought I'd find out," he said. "Mustang dreamed of a better Amestris in which its leaders didn't order soldiers to kill their own and didn't throw away the lives of their soldiers like trash in the process. He recognized humans are weak and tiny, though, so he wanted to create a government and a military that functioned like a pyramid. Those at the top would use their limited powers to protect those directly under them, allowing those below them to defend those directly under them, which would in turn allow those people to protect those under them, allowing those people to defend those under them in turn, all the way down a chain where everyone protected those subordinate to them. He's been fighting for that since Ishval, when he learned his dreams of contributing to Amestris' happiness by serving as a soldier were unrealistic. He believed his dreams of a pyramid of defense were just as idealistic, but he also believed reality would never be changed into a less ruthless place if no one pursued smoke rings. Hawkeye was the dearest person in the world to Mustang, and his closest subordinate. They've known each other since he sought instruction in alchemy under her father, Berthold Hawkeye, before he enlisted. Additionally, she joined the military because she believed in his dream soldiers could be the cornerstones of a happier future, and even after she learned he'd been wrong from her own experiences in Ishval, she chose to serve as his subordinate so she could give him any support he needed. Mustang knew he could rely on her to do virtually anything for him, and cherished her devotion as he's cherished nothing else in his life save her other qualities." All the blood drained from Ed's face. He'd known Mustang and Hawkeye had been close, but Ed had had no idea they'd been _that_ close. Even emotionally drained, he was sure he was going to throw up again. "That he failed to protect Hawkeye, to him, means he failed to protect almost everything, and his pyramid is a joke, since he couldn't defend the person he should have been most able to if his concept of a descending chain of protection had any basis in the world.

"I'm also certain he doesn't want to fulfill his dreams without her at his side."

Al was shaking violently. "Then," he sounded as if he didn't want to ask the question, "Is there any way to reach him?"

The Lieutenant Colonel clenched one fist. "There will be if I have anything to say about it."

But Edward could tell from Hughes' voice the Lieutenant Colonel wasn't certain even _he_ could get through to Mustang, and Ed's flesh leg weakened. Hughes and Mustang were close enough friends Bradley had taken Hughes hostage rather than Hawkeye; if Hughes couldn't reach Mustang, it was very possible no one could.

The window slid open.

Hughes slid a knife out of his sleeve as Edward spun to see a black-suited and hooded figure wearing a red, white, and black mask crouched on the windowsill. Al got to his feet and ran in front of Julia, and Julia stood up with her food knife in her hand.

"There's no need for that," the figure spoke in a female voice. "I'm not here to harm you. I come with a message. The Ishvalan you know as Scar has rescued the Rockbells," Ed jolted violently, and he lost almost all awareness of everything but what the person was saying. He didn't dare to breathe. He didn't dare to think. Al gasped and shook violently, "from captivity, and my master, a Xingese Prince who has allied himself with Scar, sent me to bring you to them so Scar can turn them over to you."

Edward wanted so desperately to believe her it was almost a physical thing, but he knew better. Even if Scar _had_ saved Winry, it had most likely been to use them as bait to lure Edward into a trap. Furthermore, that assumed the black-suited figure was telling the truth. Greed had said the Homunculus named Envy could alter his appearance to look like other people. He might have disguised himself as Winry to trap Edward or Al, or both of them, himself.

"He has?" Edward tried to keep the desperate hope out of his voice. "What's your proof?"

"The first time Winry threw a wrench at you was when you attempted to help her complete her second piece of automail," the person responded, "What was meant to be a new left hand for a farmer who had ripped his up with his plow when digging a field up for corn, by transmutation, and ruined it. You transmutation turned the incomplete hand into a pile of merged together automail parts with the three partially finished fingers attached to the pile at different locations far apart from one another, two by the front of the fingers, one by the back."

Ed's knees gave out, and he fell to the floor, shaking violently. It was possible Scar or the Homunculi and the government could have tortured that information out of Winry or Granny, desiring to know something no one alive but Winry, Granny, Ed, and Al were aware of to snare Ed or Edward and Alphonse, but if they had, there was probably no reason for Winry or Granny to have gone into that much detail about why the farmer had lost his hand and how Edward had wrecked Winry's automail if the story had been tortured out of them. A less extensive version of the story would have been enough to make it sufficiently likely the black-suited person's tale was true Ed and Al would have been unable to make any other choice but to go with her. Winry or Granny had probably gone into that much detail because they knew this was no trap and wanted Ed and Al to know the same.

It didn't make any sense for Scar to have saved Winry, but the black-suited figure was probably being honest. Incomprehensibly, wonderfully honest.

Winry was probably safe and no longer lost to him. He didn't know what condition she was in, or if she still had a human body, but she was probably safe and found. Thank hydrogen, thank every element that existed in reality.

He struggled almost as hard as he had when he'd found out Winry had been taken hostage to keep tears from pushing into his eyes.

He got to his feet, not even trying to stop shaking.

"I'm coming with you," Hughes said. "There's still a chance this might be a trap, so the more people with you, the better."

Julia gave Ed a questioning look.

"Yes," he responded. "You can come."

He turned to the masked figure. He knew he should be trying to calm down so he could be at his most alert in case this _was_ a trap, but he couldn't care. Almost all that mattered was Winry was probably safe now, and his all-consuming need to be certain of that, and to discover what shape she was in. Almost everything else barely existed.

"Please let me gather a number of booklets I'm learning alkahestry from," he addressed the figure, almost begging her, and her eyes widened at hearing he was learning alkahestry, "Then please lead the way. Take me to Winry."

"I will," the girl spoke. "But you four need to do as I say while we travel through Central. The military and military police are watching this hotel, no doubt so they can follow you to the Rockbells when you leave, and we need to lose them."

"We'll do that," Edward assured her. He would have even if he hadn't killed Hawkeye and destroyed Mustang through his carelessness. Winry's safety was at stake. "Tell us what you want us to do, and we'll obey."

.

Near the river, under the night sky, the black-suited figure led them into an alley and moved aside, and there she was, real and _safe_ , wearing a white shirt and pants and standing at Granny's side, her left hand on her grandmother's shoulder like she needed to draw support from it to remain standing. Scar and two other figures stood near the alley wall on the opposite side of Granny.

Edward couldn't breathe, and he began shaking violently.

She looked fully human, and there was no evidence she'd been injured save for bandages on her right hand. Edward was aware those things proved nothing; Greed's Chimeras had looked fully human, and as her captors had Philosopher's Stones, they could have performed medical transmutations to mend almost any wounds they inflicted on Winry when torturing her. But her appearance hadn't been altered into one that would always look unnatural, she wasn't badly hurt now, and she didn't appear to have been denied so much sustenance during her captivity it would have implied she'd been actively starved.

That she was holding onto Granny's shoulder as if she wouldn't be able to stand if she didn't terrified him, but in the face of the knowledge Winry appeared human, was mostly unhurt now, almost certainly hadn't been starved, and she wasn't lost to him any longer, it couldn't keep so much relief from consuming him absolutely he would have collapsed again if he hadn't already been moving without being aware he was doing so.

He knew nothing but that Winry was before him and Alphonse, violently shaking, was sprinting towards her at Edward's side, having cried, "Winry!" and must be feeling similar to how Edward was, and then she was in Ed's left arm, his face buried in the softness of her hair, his right arm at his side so she wouldn't feel it was broken if he wrapped the upper portion of it around her, and she wasn't heavier than a human should be and if she'd been Envy she would have been because part of Envy's true form was gigantic and Envy couldn't rid himself of his body mass when he made himself smaller so this was genuinely _her_ impossibly immeasurably wonderfully _her_ and Ed could feel her heartbeat against him and she was warm and he was holding her as close and as tightly as he dared after what her body might have been through and Al's hand was on her shoulder and Edward's vision was blurring and tears were on his cheeks but he didn't care he was crying for the first time in years he didn't care if he cried for the rest of his life and never stopped because Winry was here in his arm free and safe and–

She was bawling uncontrollably and shaking beyond extremely violently and clutching him as if she was a drowning girl holding onto a life raft she couldn't believe she could keep ahold of, and freezing ice so cold it burned crashed over Ed and spread through every last drop of his blood, everything that constituted him.

"Winry?" he asked, voice trembling, and he was no longer too exhausted to completely feel so he was so terrified he felt like he was going to throw up from terror alone. "What happened to you?"

"After Scar and Ling rescued us," Pinako told him, "Scar confessed to us he murdered my son and daughter-in-law after they saved his life." Al gasped, and Edward stiffened, molten fury spreading through him. "And Winry tried to kill him with a knife."

Edward's mind went empty.

He didn't have a single doubt he'd lost his mind, or was dreaming, this time. He knew there was no question he hadn't heard those words. He could never have heard those words, not in any reality, no matter how sadistic it was. Winry would never try to kill someone. Reality was worse than any nightmare could be, but there were still things that could just occur in nightmares, and that was one of them.

No. Winry hadn't done that.

But at the same time, this time, there was no question he _hadn't_ heard those words.

If Winry hadn't needed him, he knew, he'd be doubled over throwing up violently and this time he'd try to keep retching when his stomach was empty and he was too weak to dry heave, try forever.

This was worse than anything he'd dreamed or feared had happened or was going to happen to Winry because she'd been taken captive. _Unimaginably_ worse.

He buried his face further in Winry's hair, crying harder now, but he knew he'd never have enough tears for this. Winry, who built replacement limbs for those who had lost their original ones and gave new bodies to the crippled, who enabled them to walk again and write again and climb again and jump again, whose hands restored the broken, whose hands gave hope and life and new beginnings and second chances, had attempted to murder someone.

And she'd ended up in the position that had caused her to want to because he'd told Doctor Marcoh about her.

This, too, was his responsibility.

He _had_ ruined Winry as he'd ruined Al. In countless ways he'd ruined her incomparably _worse_ than he'd ruined Al.

It should have been him! _He_ was the one Winry should hate! _He_ was the one Winry should have tried to kill! All he was capable of, all he'd been capable of his entire life, was destroying and murdering the people who loved and trusted him. He'd murdered Mom. He'd made Al's life a waking nightmare. He'd murdered Nina. He'd condemned Winry and Granny to captivity and perhaps worse. There was a good chance he'd condemned Greed and an alchemist to pay the price for human transmutation. He'd murdered Hawkeye. He'd wrecked Mustang. And now he'd ripped apart Winry's very being.

Even the arrest of Major Armstrong's family and the Colonel's subordinates and Hughes being reassigned were his fault. If he and Al hadn't gone to see Doctor Marcoh, someone else would have, but that didn't change how he and Al _had_ still been the ones to see Doctor Marcoh.

Even the small things he'd spoken or done had caused unspeakable harm. The first two times he'd returned to Resembool for automail repairs, he and Al had bought Winry three pairs of pierced earrings to attempt to keep her from injuring him for damaging her automail by doing unusually nice things, and in that short amount of time, she'd gotten two piercings in her left ear and three in her right she might or might not have acquired at the same time, then two more in her left she _had_ obtained at the same time, so she could wear the earrings because he and Al had given them to her. He and Al hadn't bought her another pierced earring since she'd revealed she'd been piercing her ears because of them, but the damage had already been done.

Edward's life had been nothing but an endless spiral of inflicting pain on others.

He was still terrified beyond speech Al hated him, and it would shatter Edward if he did, and he was still terrified Winry hated him, but there was no longer a question whether Ed should hope Al and Winry hated him. He should have hoped Al and Winry did from the moment he'd discovered he'd erased Al. He should have realized then he couldn't support anyone, and could just hurt others. He should have realized then he corroded the concepts of 'brother' and 'friend' merely by being alive!

He should have realized then he'd destroy Winry too.

"I'm sorry," he cried into Winry's hair. "I'm so sorry."

But no apology could come the most infinitesimal bit close to beginning to suffice the barest flicker of a candle. He'd warped Winry, and further, even if he could still give Al back his body, the damage he'd done to her was irreparable.

Winry's bawling quieted, but her hold on him didn't loosen. "What are you apologizing for?" she asked. "I'm the one who tried to kill him, and as unforgivable as that was, he deserves it."

Edward wailed in complete despair.

"He's apologizing because we're the reason you were abducted," Al spoke in just as much agony. "We told Doctor Marcoh about you, so he could call us if he thought of something he hadn't informed us of. We're the reason you were held prisoner. We're the reason you learned Scar killed your parents and tried to avenge them. Everything you've suffered since you were taken from your home is all our fault. I'm so sorry, Winry."

"All our captors did was hold us in a cell," Winry spoke, but Edward barely felt relieved. That Winry hadn't been tortured or fused with one or more animals didn't matter much in the face of how she _had_ been tormented, and what _had_ happened to her. "In addition, I've wanted to know how my parents died since I found out they'd been killed; as I said, Scar deserves death; and I'm the one who made the choice to strike. So what if you put me in that position? My decisions are my own, for worse or for better."

"You'd never have been able to make that decision if not for me," Ed cried. How could she be trying to comfort them, even now!? Didn't she have a concept of what her suffering and her choice meant!?

"So?" Winry now sounded irritated, and her shaking lessened. "I have a mind of my own, Ed. Whether I would or wouldn't have been in the situation that caused me to make the decision I did if not for you two is irrelevant. You're not responsible for how I think. Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for _my_ stupidity. That's not just unnecessary, that's arrogant."

What difference did that make? He'd been arrogant before he'd learned what Winry had attempted to do, so even if he _had_ been being arrogant, another amount of arrogance would have meant nothing. But he wasn't being arrogant this time. Saying he shouldn't blame himself for her trying to murder someone was the same as saying he shouldn't blame himself for Al participating in their human transmutation of their mother, and that could never be true.

He didn't argue, however. That would just hurt Winry more.

Edward felt almost as helpless to say or do anything for her as he did for Al, if not even more. At least Ed knew he could take care of A–

Ed couldn't think, and he wasn't certain he even knew what thinking was anymore.

If he could hurt both Al and Winry as badly as he had, _could Ed even be certain he could take care of Al?_

No matter what else he'd learned, no matter what else he'd gone through, it should have been impossible to believe he was thinking this in any sense, but after what he'd done to Winry it couldn't be denied.

Edward wasn't certain any longer.

That was so indefinably horrific Ed wanted to fall into a coma and never wake up again, never mind never move again. He didn't even know if he _had_ legs he could walk on now.

Edward reminded himself he needed to be there for Winry, whatever good that would do for her, so reality returned, held her, and cried.

.

"Your shield is shattered! Your oaths poison those you would protect!"-Judge Magister Gabranth

FINAL FANTASY XII


	14. The Forgotten Screw

.

 **CHAPTER 14:**

 **THE FORGOTTEN SCREW**

.

Ed sat against the alley wall, no longer crying. Winry was resting in his left arm, held close and tight against him, and Alphonse was sitting to her left and stroking her hair. Ed was fully aware of reality now, and alert, in case Scar or any of his companions had lured them into a trap, but Ed wasn't paying much attention to anyone but Winry. Winry's cries and shaking had subsided into intermittent trembling and shuddering and shaking and tears, but she hadn't spoken since she'd accused him of arrogance.

Granny, Hughes, Scar, a black-haired, ponytailed male in orange Edward assumed was the Xingese Prince, the black-suited girl who had brought him to Winry, and another black-suited person Ed assumed was another of the Prince's servants, were standing near the opposite alley wall, where Granny was telling Scar about Sarah Rockbell and Yuriy Rockbell.

" _I'm not going to attack you like Winry did," Granny spoke, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to sit back and accept what you did to my children. I want you to fully be aware of how innocent they were, so you have to live with the complete knowledge of what you've done for the rest of your life."_

 _Scar nodded, expression indecipherable. "Very well."_

Julia was sitting next to Al, obviously trying to offer him silent support with her presence.

Edward had no hope it was working, however. The beyond nightmare was over, but its end had brought about a beyond nightmare that was measurelessly worse in too many ways to count.

Further, now that the knowledge of what Winry had attempted to do was genuinely sinking in, he had become aware of something else that was just as unforgivable as how he'd warped Winry.

She'd learned how her parents had died, and they'd been killed by someone whose life they had saved, and experienced all the anguish that had resulted from discovering those things, and because he'd gotten her captured, he hadn't been there to support her at that time. She'd experienced a nightmare just as bad as the one Al lived outside of the knowledge she'd attempted murder, and he hadn't even _known_ she was going through it.

He'd just begun to comprehend the depths of the new beyond nightmare reality had become when he'd learned Winry had attempted to kill Scar, and it was no doubt the same with Al. His brother was still beyond comfort, and in multiple ways even more past support than before.

But there _should_ have been something he could think of to comfort Winry about the deaths of her parents. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, and what things made the grief more bearable, and he'd been there when Winry had learned her parents had died. He knew how she felt about her bereavement. He shouldn't have been powerless to say anything this time. So why couldn't he think of something?

Then his eyes widened, and his stomach twisted violently.

He didn't know what to say because he _hadn't_ been aware how Winry felt about the loss of her parents all these years. He wouldn't have thought her capable of breaking down as severely as she had if she hadn't been held prisoner for weeks and possibly tortured, or experimented on. All of these years, he'd been ignorant about how his best friend felt and thought, and he didn't understand it now. That was why he didn't know what to say.

For an unknown reason, it felt wrong to think of Winry as his best friend now, but that wasn't important at present.

What was important was he'd destroyed her. What was important was he hadn't been there for her. What was important was he was an ignorant idiot.

He didn't know if he'd learned to accept the Truth? He still hadn't even yet learned what it was to _confront_ it. He was no seeker of the truth. He'd known nothing about how one of the closest people to him genuinely felt about one of the things that mattered most to her.

He'd come to understand how she thought and felt, about her parents and anything else he didn't understand within her, and dispense with his ignorance about reality, but as usual, it was too late.

 _Do you_ still _believe you can save Al and Winry and everyone else from the one called Father?_

Yes.

Because he had to now more than at any time before. If he believed he had no chance of saving them, or a sliver of a chance, that would be the end. He'd keep walking to try to take care of Al, and support Winry, for whatever that was worth, but he would no longer be walking on legs.

Assuming he still was now, now that he was unsure he could take care of Al.

He was still going to try to. He would _never_ stop trying to take care of Al. But he honestly wasn't sure he could now that he knew what he'd done to Winry.

But he was going to try. In addition, even though it appeared wholly insane to try now that he'd discovered what he'd done to Winry, he wasn't just going to try with Al. There was utterly no choice. Winry and Granny would be in danger every day unless he was able to defeat the one called Father, and Winry needed support now more than she had before at any point in her life. So he had to continue to attempt to protect Winry and Granny, and to attempt to take care of them too.

And he had to believe there was as reasonable a chance he could, as well, as he had to believe there was a reasonable chance he could save Amestris, or the same terror would eat him.

"I'd like to ask you something, Scar," Hughes' voice drew more of Edward's attention to the people standing in the alley. Granny must have finished her stories of her children. "Why did you save Winry? Was it out of guilt for killing her parents?"

"It had nothing to do with who her parents were," Scar replied. "I had infiltrated Laboratory Three with my companions from Xing in search of the answers to why the government ordered my people dead, and to assist my companions in unlocking the secret of immortality." Edward suppressed the urge to swear. He was in no mood to deal with even more people who wanted to practice forbidden alchemy now. "But when Prince Ling and I came upon Winry and Pinako, we knew we had to abandon our search to free them. We couldn't abandon people in need for the sake of our personal goals."

So Scar wasn't as much of a bastard as Ed had thought he was. He didn't care, though. Scar had murdered Nina, murdered Winry's parents, and his confession had caused Winry to attempt murder. He wasn't as much of a bastard as Edward had thought, but he _was_ a monster.

"The Fϋhrer was hiding them in Laboratory Three, huh?" Hughes asked rhetorically. "So he learned from Doctor Marcoh's attempt to hide in plain sight and tried the same thing himself, imprisoning the Rockbells somewhere so close to the free world no one would think to look for them there.

"I'm sorry to hear you didn't learn why your people were butchered, but we can tell you."

"There's no need for that," Scar spoke. "Lan Fan and Fu," he gestured at the two black-suited figures, "Overheard a discussion between two of the people working with those who massacred the Ishvalans. We know why. To transmute a Philosopher's Stone out of everyone within Amestris, so the father of the family that really rules Amestris can control the world's knowledge."

Hughes' eyebrows rose. "He wants his special Stone to control the world's knowledge? I wasn't aware of that part." He looked at Edward and Alphonse. "Did you know about this?"

"Yes," Ed replied. "We found out about it from a member of the family who struck out on his own in Dublith."

The person who was clearly Ling looked at Ed with interest. "How much do you know about this family, and the world's knowledge?"

"They're Homunculi," Edward responded, and Ling's and Hughes' eyes widened. "Artificial humans born through transmutation."

"I know what a Homunculus is," Ling said back. "What else are you aware of?"

"That's all I'm willing to tell you," Ed responded, challenging Ling with his eyes to attempt to force more information out of them. "You shouldn't be getting involved with the Homunculi. Forbidden alchemy is forbidden for a reason. The ingredient for the Philosopher's Stone should prove that."

"It does," Ling responded. "But everyone in my clan is relying on me to raise them to prosperity. I can't afford to abandon immortality because of the price involved.

"Nevertheless, I won't compel you to tell me what you know. Under regular circumstances I would, but the Rockbells don't need to see my retainers beat the information out of you at present. I'll return for you if accompanying Scar doesn't fill in enough of the gaps in what Fu and Lan Fan overheard."

"Do your worst," Ed challenged.

Ling smiled.

"I wouldn't be so willing to turn things unpleasant," Hughes interjected. "The Elrics and I need to work with Scar ourselves." Winry's eyes widened and she looked up, too many emotions on her face to read any of them. "He's the younger brother of a late Ishvalan alchemist who may have known what the government and its masters are doing, and where we can find evidence that will expose them. We all need to cooperate. You two should reach a compromise."

Edward ground his teeth. He wanted intensely to argue because Greed had told them most of the things the one called Father and High Command were doing, and where to find the base of the one called Father, they didn't need Scar now. But Ed knew that wasn't true. Greed hadn't known what the Homunculi had wanted the imperfect Stones for, and no one had spoken of it, but there was a possibility they wouldn't find any evidence in the underground complex. They still needed to know what Scar's brother had been aware of.

"That would serve no purpose," Scar spoke up. "I won't assist former State Alchemists, and a member of the military, whether you too want to see these Homunculi stopped or not. I won't go after Elric, and I'll leave Mustang be unless he did know High Command wanted my people dead from the start, but I'll never cooperate with you or them. I'll take my own road to defeat the Homunculi."

"Amestrians and Ishvalans are _all_ victims of the Fϋhrer in the same ways," Hughes argued. "The military is a victim too. You know what it's like to have been sacrificed for Bradley, so you know what it's like to be in our shoes. If you don't help us, you'll be letting what happened to your brother happen to more people."

Scar glared. "That's the second time one of you has used my brother to attempt to sway me," his tone was angry. "Don't do it again. I won't kill you, but if you use my brother against me another time I'll remind you how skilled Ishvalans are at harming their enemies without resorting to alchemy.

"Anyway, your argument is groundless. You don't need evidence to expose High Command. The word of a State Alchemist and his or her companions in the military will be enough for many civilians and soldiers in Amestris; enough you'll be able to gather a sizeable following and succeed in a revolution. You can solve your problems without any help from me."

Edward's stomach heaved violently. In the face of the knowledge Winry had attempted to murder Scar, the concept of a revolt where _anyone_ killed another caused him to feel like he was going to retch. He couldn't take the concept of fighting at the side of others who murdered even if his own hands remained clean any longer. _Any_ death brought about by _anyone_ was now so horrible he couldn't describe it with language or nonverbal communication.

He knew it made him measurelessly more irresolute than he'd been at any time in his life, but he wasn't going to turn a blind eye to others killing any more. He wasn't going to let anyone else kill another. He was going to see this coup succeed without anyone on either side dying or he'd die himself making the attempt.

"We need evidence to convince most of the Amestrian military to stand with us," Hughes said. "We're trying to overthrow Bradley without sacrificing a single other life."

Scar's eyes widened, but then he gave Hughes a look that made it clear he believed Hughes had lost his mind. "Then that's even less reason for me to help you. My brother believed in peace and a world without death, and all it did was get him killed. Peace is an illusion. Humans, and no doubt Homunculi, are intolerant bigots who see those different than they themselves as their inferiors and unworthy of sharing this world with them. To attain any measure of happiness in this world, you have to secure your future over the corpses of others. You're marching to your deaths, as my brother did, and you'll never save Amestris with your idealism. I won't be a part of it."

Hughes sighed deeply. It was now obvious from Scar's tone they wouldn't be able to convince him to help them. Edward sighed heavily in relief.

Hughes glared at him, but Ed ignored it.

"Still," Scar continued, "I'll tell you this, by way of thanks for sending me down the road that enabled me to learn the true reason my people were exterminated. Maybe you already know this, but I'll offer it to you in gratitude. The Homunculi and High Command are transmuting an army of humanoid mannequins the Homunculi have claimed High Command can use to make Amestris the glorious master of the planet. The Fϋhrer may intend to give them life with Philosopher's Stones."

Edward's stomach twisted violently. So that was what the imperfect Stones might be for. A means of giving artificial constructs that, like Alphonse, could keep moving even after taking injuries that would have incapacitated a human, souls without performing human transmutation.

In addition, that meant there was a greater possibility the souls in a Stone _were_ still alive. Perhaps they weren't still partially or fully aware, but it was now more likely they were still alive. But Ed experienced no worry. Even if he had still been certain he wanted his body back, even if Al had wanted his body back, it would no longer have been a question if they could transmute with existing Stones. Not after Winry had attempted to kill Scar. It didn't matter if the souls were dead, or fully or partially unaware, or couldn't be restored to their bodies. If they were dead they would have still existed in this dimension in a sense, so using them would be no different than using living souls. Whether or not they were still alive, using them was no different than harming and murdering any other humans, or using any other humans as if they were no more than laboratory samples. After Winry had tried to kill Scar, Ed couldn't think of using the souls in a Philosopher's Stone in any other way.

Edward was certain Al felt the same.

"This is a ruse so High Command will serve the Homunculi," Scar was continuing, "And I don't know what the mannequins are genuinely intended for, or if they have any purpose in the plans of the one called Father other than to fail to fulfill his promise to High Command, but there may be documents covering how the mannequins were transmuted and how the military intends to animate them through the souls they've sacrificed in their vicinity."

Documents that could have any mention of the Philosopher's Stone as the vehicle for feeding the mannequins souls blacked out without obscuring the majority of the wrongs the military had done by creating them. If the mannequins were meant to be controlled by prisoners who had been sentenced to death, the human sacrifices wouldn't convince the military their government was willing to take the souls of its own soldiers, but that the Fϋhrer and High Command were all criminals who had broken the law forbidding alchemical creation of humans would probably be enough to turn the military at large against their leaders. Edward's word as a well-known State Alchemist who had a reputation as being above dirty dealings should convince the military the documents weren't forged, so they'd probably get their military support.

For the first time, in spite of what he'd done to Winry and everyone else, Edward was almost sure he could believe they could succeed in saving Amestris.

 _Have you completely lost your mind? You know now you haven't done anything but hurt Al and Winry and others all your life, and you might not be able to take care of Al. And after you've learned_ this _you gain this much capacity for faith you can save an entire_ country _, and without any death!?_

Edward couldn't think of a valid argument, but he pushed aside his doubts as best as he could. They had a tangible probable solution now, and when he'd had tangible probable solutions to dilemmas before he'd overcome obstacles. That meant there really was a good chance he could save Amestris without anyone dying.

 _Even though it may already be too late to avert death. Soldiers might have died because of you in Dublith. Further, you have this 'opportunity' because you likely sentenced Greed and an alchemist to pay the price for human transmutation. And you're thinking of this as a chance of meaningful size?_

Ed didn't push those thoughts and feelings aside. To do so would be wrong. But he was still almost sure he could have faith. There was a clear light at the end of the tunnel now, as long as it was, and after he and Alphonse had spent years chasing what they'd known might be an impossibility and hadn't given up no matter how many times their travels had gotten them nowhere, that was enough for Ed's confidence to regain a small amount of what it had lost.

Further, Winry and Granny were now free. They wouldn't need to wait once they found their evidence to alert the military in general. That meant, if a number of State Alchemists needed to learn alkahestry, there wasn't as much of a chance it would take them until near the day of the solar eclipse. And if they were able to develop another plan for defeating or imprisoning the one called Father, they could launch their revolt even sooner.

But Ed felt no joy at any of this. He _didn't_ know if he could take care of Al, and he'd ruined Winry's life. How could even the knowledge they might genuinely be able to pull this off raise his spirits when those things were true?

"If you want evidence to expose the Fϋhrer," Scar was saying, "You may find it there.

"I recommend you discard your foolish ideals, though. In all probability you'll accomplish nothing but suicide."

The Lieutenant Colonel didn't acknowledge Scar's advice. "Will you at least tell us what you plan to do?"

"I'm going to retrieve my brother's alchemy research notes from where I hid them in the Northern Region of Amestris," Scar responded. "I have reason to believe he was thoroughly studying the Philosopher's Stone extending below the surface of Amestris." Hughes' eyes widened, and then he whistled. "If he was, he may have learned something about them that will give me an advantage against the Homunculus leader."

"He knew about it," Hughes revealed. "Or at least thought it was a network of Stones. McDougal told Ed it was a network, but your brother may have been unspecific or lied about precisely what's beneath the surface because he believed the Freezer wouldn't believe him if he'd said it was a single Stone. Whether he knew its one Stone or many, however, he discovered what's underground exists to inhibit the link Amestrian alchemists have with their power source, tectonic energy. Because he was studying it so extensively, perhaps he developed a means of counteracting whatever the Stone is doing that's inhibiting that link." Edward didn't have any problems believing a transmutation could counter the effects of a Philosopher's Stone at this point. "If he did, those notes could be useful to us. I won't ask you to help us yourself, but is there any way I can convince you to show us his notes?"

"None," Scar replied. "I'm not sharing my brother's legacy with State Alchemists or the military."

Hughes sighed.

"And don't try to steal them from me. I _will_ kill you if you interfere with me."

Hughes didn't lock eyes with Scar, but Ed knew Scar's threat hadn't dissuaded the Lieutenant Colonel. It hadn't dissuaded Ed. They needed those notes. If Scar's brother had developed a way of preventing the one called Father from warding their connection to tectonic energy, they wouldn't need to wait for State Alchemists to learn alkahestry.

Hughes turned to Ling. "What about you three? Are you going to do anything for Amestris while you're here, or are you just out for your clan in Xing?"

Ling sighed. "I'm responsible for around five hundred thousand Yao clanspeople. I can't afford to get mixed up in another nation's problems, and letting that happen would be foolish of me." Lan Fan shifted. "But whether I can afford to, or it makes me a fool, is beside the point. An entire civilization is in danger of being extinguished. If I did the smart thing, the thing I'm capable of doing, I'd be no better than the jerks in this nation who believed it didn't matter what happened to the Ishvalans because they're a different race and ethnicity. So I've got to be a stupid child with his or her head in the clouds. Better that than a reasonable adult who sits back while things go wrong because the rational thing is to just look after his or her own."

Ed experienced bitter amusement. Yes, Ling was an idiot. He was much more of an idiot than he thought he was if he believed being a child was a good thing.

I'm going to do my part to attempt to keep Amestris from collapsing," Ling went on, "Though I won't help Scar take revenge."

"That's good to know," Hughes spoke. "It's a shame we won't be working together, but it's good to know four other people will be fighting for what we are."

"I'm not fighting to save Amestris," Scar corrected him. "I'm fighting to avenge my people." Hughes' face became a mask. "And I've delayed my vengeance long enough. We've brought the Rockbells to the Elrics, so it's time for us to leave you."

"Go ahead," Edward spoke up. "But there's something I want you to know. I'm not going to let you kill anyone in High Command, or the Fϋhrer, or any of the Homunculi. Death shouldn't be answered with more death."

"Then you'll die with them," Scar said.

Edward met his eyes for a second, then looked away.

Hughes turned to Ed, Al, and Julia. "You'd better get a move on yourselves. The sooner you're out of Central, the less the chances of anyone recapturing the Rockbells. I recommend you head southeast, to the town of Carvar. A friend of mine from the court martial office has been relocating employees from the First Branch of the National Central Library down there after it was burnt to hide evidence, in case High Command wants to silence them as they did the research teams. He and the employees should be able to get you set up there.

"Before you go, though, I have one thing to tell you. I read a newspaper article about how businesses and employees in the city of Kelyair are building a New Liore where Liore used to be in order to participate in an economic experiment in the government offering new levels of support to an economy. There's no doubt that's how the Homunculi are repopulating that point on the circle, and they plan to foment rebellion there and kill all those people."

"That's not what they plan to do now," Lan Fan put in, and Hughes turned to her in surprise. "I overheard a Homunculus and a researcher discussing this when I learned what I did in the Third Laboratory. Once enough people have moved to that location soldiers can complement them and give the leaders of Amestris enough people to inscribe their crest, the one called Father is going to send in the military to defend the people of New Liore from mannequins the alchemist who hurt Bradley down south is supposedly going to use to sabotage the experiment. Then the mannequin 'army' will be unleashed on the civilians and soldiers."

"We'll put a stop to that once we have our evidence," Ed spoke. "Thanks for the information."

"You're welcome," Lan Fan said.

"Do you have any more information to provide anyone we may be able to add to?" Scar questioned Hughes.

"No," Hughes responded.

"Then this is goodbye." Scar turned and walked out of the alley.

"That's our cue." Ling bowed to the four of them sitting down, and then to Granny. "It was a joy to make your acquaintance. Whether I need the Elrics' information or not, I hope I'll have the chance to see you again before I return to Xing."

He gestured to Lan Fan and Fu. Lan Fan looked towards the southwest, and Laboratory Three.

"Await us," she spoke, "Residents of the darkness. This is just the beginning. We will return."

Then the three of them ran after Scar.

Hughes watched them leave, and then turned to the rest of them. "I'll go my way too."

Edward didn't want to let Winry go, but he couldn't make a different choice. He sighed deeply and removed his arm from around her, then reached into a pocket of his cloak and took a piece of paper out of it. He put it on the alley floor before him and wrote Teacher's number on it with his left hand as best he could since he was right-handed and wasn't ambidextrous.

Then he held it out to the Lieutenant Colonel without getting up. He didn't want to take away Winry's ability to rest against him.

Hughes took the paper, and Ed put his left arm back around Winry and pulled her tight and close against him again. "What's this?"

"My former alchemy teacher's number," Ed responded. "I called one of her employees to recommend she meet us in Central so we can sneak into the Homunculi's base, but now that we've got to get Winry to Carvar, we're not going to be able to penetrate it with her as soon as we thought we'd be able to. She needs to know that, and that we'll get in touch with her or her employee, Mason, from Carvar when we can sneak into it. Would you be willing to call Mason from a public phone booth and let him know that?"

"Sure," Hughes responded.

Ed wanted to speak about Hawkeye and Mustang. He wanted to apologize to Hughes for killing Hawkeye and wrecking Mustang, and for not being able to attend Hawkeye's funeral. But he couldn't talk about what had happened to Hawkeye and Mustang with Winry in the state she was in. It would cause her even more agony at a time that was one of the last things she needed.

"Take care of yourself," Ed said.

"You, too," Hughes replied. He walked out of the alley.

Edward sighed heavily and looked over at Winry. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I've got to release you now. Can you stand?"

"There's no reason to apologize," Winry responded, concern now in her voice, and Ed cringed. "You've never been this supportive in the past." Ed clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he became aware she was right, and he hated himself even more, if that was possible. Now that he knew how much anguish she'd been carrying for years, that was just as unforgivable as everything else he'd done to her since he'd told Doctor Marcoh about her, and his inability to be there for her when she'd discovered what had happened to her parents, and his ignorance. "I'm thankful for receiving this much support from you."

She put one hand on his shoulder, and the other on Alphonse's, and Ed opened his eyes, clenched his teeth further, and released her. Carefully, Winry pushed herself to her feet, and Ed and Al stood up with her, Ed's left arm and Al's arms out to catch her if her legs gave out and she fell. Julia arose behind Alphonse.

But, though Winry wavered on her feet, she remained standing.

"I have something of my own to say," Winry now sounded even more concerned. "What happened to your automail arm, Ed?"

"I don't know," Edward replied. "The elbow stopped working in the middle of a battle–"

Winry went white.

Ed's stomach twisted violently. What had he done now?

"What is it?" Al asked.

"What happened when your elbow stopped working?" Winry questioned, guilt and terror in her voice. "Did it put you in any additional danger?"

Edward wanted to lie, but he could never do that to Winry anymore than he could to Alphonse. "I would have been killed if someone else hadn't saved my life," he responded.

More tears appeared in Winry's eyes and fell down her face, any blood remaining in her face drained from it, and she started to shake beyond extremely violently. Her legs gave out, and Alphonse caught her by the shoulders. She fell back against him, but she didn't appear to be aware of him, though, or anything in reality, her eyes gazing out unseeing in complete horror.

"Winry!" Ed shouted, so terrified he could barely breathe, and now much further guilty. "What's wrong!?"

Winry didn't say anything for a long time, just cried and shook, and from time to time she gave out a high, keening moan. Ed looked on in absolute horror of his own. What had he done to her!?

At last she appeared to become aware of the reality around her, and gave out a moan of utter despair and buried her face in her hands. "Your elbow stopped working because I forgot to install a critical screw in it!" she cried. "That's what's wrong with it! I was careless, and my lousy work almost got you killed!"

Ed was stunned, and awed. He knew Winry cared about them deeply, but he'd never thought she cared about them so much him almost dying because she'd made a mistake would get her _this_ upset.

But this wasn't the time to think about that. He reached out and put his hand on the top of her head. "I don't care," he spoke. "I _didn't_ die, and if not for your automail arm, I wouldn't have been able to save Julia here from the person who had murdered her family. Your automail enabled me to save someone in torment. So what if it almost got me killed? I lived, and I was still able to save someone with it."

"Because you're supposed to be able to trust my automail will keep you alive!" Winry practically shrieked. "It's not supposed to almost murder you!"

Edward struggled desperately to keep the food in his stomach inside his body. Winry was in far more pain now, and because of him, and even _now_ he could say or do nothing. He should be able to think of something to say about the murders of her parents, but he extremely highly doubted there was anything to say that would support her anguish over how they'd been murdered by someone they'd saved, or her pain over trying to kill Scar, and, as the words he'd just spoken hadn't meant anything to her, he didn't know if there was anything that could be said that would comfort her agony over making a mistake in constructing his automail arm.

He was almost as helpless to do anything for her as he was to do anything for Al.

"Winry," Al said, "You've been as reliable a friend as anyone could hope to have. But no matter how reliable a person is, he or she will still make mistakes from time to time. That's what being human is. But you've–"

Without warning, Winry tore herself away from their hands and ran down the alley, then spun to face them. "I don't want to hear it!" she cried. "Reliable friends don't make mistakes that almost kill their friends! I'm not reliable! I'm _crippling_ you!" Edward was barely able to keep his food inside himself. "Don't try to make me feel better! About anything! Not my parents, not Scar, not this, not my imprisonment, nothing at all! I let you down in one of the worst ways possible! You shouldn't be attempting to comfort me! You should be hating me and cursing me for daring to call myself your friend! You should run as far away from me as you can and never look back! Get away from me! Get away from me while you still have time to save yourselves from me!"

No. He _was_ as powerless to do anything for her as he was to do anything for Al. If he talked to her about the deaths of her parents now he'd hurt her.

"We don't need to save ourselves from you at a–"

" _I told you I don't want to hear it!_ " Winry screamed, cutting Alphonse off, her voice almost hysterical. "I'm as much a danger to you as any of the people who have tried to kill you on purpose! So long as you're with me you're in peril! Run away! Please! I'll install the missing screw in Ed's automail if he retrieves it because I can't leave him to have to get his forearm fixed by someone who doesn't know how it works as well as I do but after that I want you to run away from me! I want to protect you, and if you stay by my side I won't be able to do that! Please! Run! Or I'll murder you! I'm a killer now, don't you see!? If you don't leave me I'll kill you! And I want you to be safe!" Then her eyes widened in new horror.

"But that doesn't matter," she went on, referring to something Edward had no clue of the nature of. "I'd rather see your backs as you leave me than have you with me in danger. Go away! Please, go away! I don't want to kill you! Please, get away from me!"

Then she was bawling again.

Tears were in Ed's eyes again and on his face, but he rubbed them away. Al and Winry didn't need him crying now. They needed him to be strong. He didn't know if he still believed he was capable of being strong, but that was what they needed, so he'd continue to prevent himself from crying and try to be strong so he could take care of them.

Edward couldn't think of anything to say, and they didn't have the time to spend arguing about this here, so he walked forward and took her hand gently. She cringed away violently, and Ed had to fight desperately to keep the insides of his stomach within him, but he spoke softly, "Winry. It isn't safe here. Let's go."

.

Roy looked up at the sound of the cell door opening to see Hughes enter, Archer walking in behind him. Uncaring, he looked back down at the cell floor.

The next thing he knew, a fist was slugging him across the face, sending him sprawling back against the wall he was chained to by his wrists.

Then Hughes grabbed the collar of Roy's white prison shirt and pulled his face close to Hughes'.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Hughes yelled furiously. "Do you honestly believe this is what Riza would want!? For you to throw away your life, throw away your dreams, throw away your friends and subordinates, throw away the soldiers who looked up to you and believed in you, try to kill out of hate, and then sit here in this cell having given up!? Are you the person Riza gave her life to save!?"

Of course he wasn't. But what did that matter? Roy looked away from Hughes' expression.

"I was never the person Riza gave her life to save," Roy responded. "She believed in someone who didn't exist. She should never have sacrificed herself for me. So it doesn't matter if I cast away that façade."

Hughes slugged him again, and Roy let his head rest against the back wall for the small amount of seconds until Hughes seized the collar of his shirt again.

"How dare you, Roy," Hughes hissed. "You know how many soldiers in the East believe in you, and you know one of the most important reasons why. The public thinks you're called the Hero of Ishval because your Flame Alchemy killed more Ishvalans in the war than anyone save Kimblee did, but we both know the real reason. You frequently used your Flame Alchemy to carve a path through enemy lines that other soldiers could make it through alive. You were often before your subordinates, literally blazing a safer trail for them to follow. You just protected a small number of soldiers compared to the army overall, but you still made yourself a living shield for them. And now you're telling me the person those soldiers in Ishval believed in – the person more soldiers in the East than them believe in now for that reason – was a fake, and they were and are wrong to trust you.

"You're telling me the person soldiers in the East believe in now for your dedication to your subordinates, your regard for the lives of the lowest-ranking troops, your skill at leadership, and your strategic and tactical talents, was a fraud, and they're wrong to have faith in you.

"How dare you let them down that way!"

"I can't let my companions down when I never gave them anything of substance to believe in," Roy didn't even know why he was wasting the time talking. "All I gave them was an empty silhouette of illusionary ideals. I was no better than any other bloodstained mass murderer in that war or Bradley's effort to establish the nationwide transmutation circle, and I never will be."

"Nor will I," Hughes said, voice calmer now. "My hands aren't one liter cleaner than yours. Furthermore, don't forget, I murdered Heathcliff. You were right when you asked me if I'd hold Gracia with my bloodstained hands that night. Hands like these shouldn't pick up Elicia, or hug Gracia. Every time I touch them I pollute them with the blood that coats my hands. But that's not stopping me from giving them every ounce of love I can, and trying to be the best father and husband I can think a husband and a father should be. If I let it stop me, I couldn't give them the joy of having a husband and father they deserve but can't be handed to them. You told me Riza said it's our duty to be soldiers because Equivalent Exchange compels us to carry the corpses of those we've murdered for the rest of our lives, and therefore continue to spill blood even when we don't want to, as the price for our sins of reducing living humans to those corpses. But there's more to life than the past. We can still cherish people in the present, and build a better future with our bloodstained hands. You know that, too. Stop lying to yourself."

"I have," Roy responded. "That's why I've given up. My belief bloodstained hands can cherish the present and build a future were the lies."

"So you're telling me every time I take a picture of Elicia I'm lying to myself and her?" Hughes asked.

"No," Roy replied. "But you won't be able to take pictures of her until a ripe old age and die peacefully knowing you've provided for her even if I do change Amestris. You know what will happen if I become Fϋhrer." If Hughes was upset Roy had spoken of his former dream in front of Archer, he gave no evidence of it. "Our neighbors won't trust us, and Amestris' people won't be able to live in a stable peace so long as we're a powerful military country. I'll have to give the power the military has stolen from Parliament back to it and give it more power than it's had in all of Amestris' history, so this nation can reduce its armed forces and make the corruption in the military public. We'll be tried as war criminals for what we did in Ishval, executed, and the future will be out of our hands."

"We don't know that for certain," Hughes spoke. "If you create an atmosphere of tolerance within Amestris, you may be able to persuade Parliament to be lenient towards many of its war criminals and our neighbors to accept that lenience. There might be ways we'll be able to avoid execution."

"Perhaps," Roy conceded. "But even if there are, I'm still a liar. Perhaps your hands will be able to hold the present and the future. But mine can't. I'm not even remotely as strong as you are, and I could never be anywhere near as strong as you. Or as rational. If I couldn't defend Riza, weak humans can't even form a pyramid of limited protection. I learned nothing from Ishval. The world can't be made a better place, whether I chase the illusions of the drugged or don't. I'm no more than a deluded dreamer who will never be able to make a meaningful difference in this state. Amestris is better off without a fool like me."

Hughes clenched his teeth and released Roy's collar. "All right. Let's assume you're right about that. That doesn't change a fool like you is serving it as a Colonel, and practicing what you've said to me your alchemy Master called the greatest and most powerful field of alchemy. You're a weak human, and weaker than me, but you still have the strength to make a major difference in this country with your Flame Alchemy, and that means you have a responsibility to use it. You can't turn your back on that responsibility. Nor can you turn your back on your responsibilities as an officer; you're carrying the burden of other people's well-being in your position as Colonel, and you can't leave those people dangling."

"My Master also told me Flame Alchemy could be exceptionally deadly if the wrong person performed it," Roy reminded him. "And there's no question I'm the wrong person. I'd be irresponsible if I used it any more, now that I know what I am. Furthermore, I shouldn't be an officer. Master Hawkeye was right. I shouldn't have enlisted in the military."

"Then you're saying Riza should never have entrusted you with her back. You're saying she should never have trusted you could burn her father's research notes on her back without crippling her for life. You're saying she should never have been willing to follow you. You're saying she should never have lived for you."

"Yes," Roy said. He was so exhausted. Why couldn't Hughes leave him be? "I'm saying that. She should have shot me in the back right after I assigned her to be my assistant."

"Are you saying I shouldn't have trusted you, too? That Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman shouldn't have believed in you? That you'd be irresponsible if you continued to look out for us?"

"Yes," Roy replied. "If I continued to lead you, I'd lead you to your deaths. It's a good thing I was reassigned away from all of them. If I hadn't been, they might be with Riza now."

Hughes crossed his arms. "I disagree. Even if you won't lead me, I'll still follow you. Beyond the end of the world, if I have to."

Something stirred inside Roy, so faint he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining things again, and he looked at Archer. "Please take Hughes out of here," he requested. "And please don't let him meet with me again while I'm here."

Archer nodded, and Hughes sighed heavily.

"Riza's funeral was earlier today," Hughes spoke. "You missed it because you were sitting here in despair. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Something stronger stirred within Roy, but it was still so faint he wasn't sure he wasn't imagining it.

"If I'd attended it," he responded, "I'd have done her a disservice. Missing her funeral was the sole good thing I've done for her in my whole life." He looked away from Hughes at the wall to his right. "Leave me in peace, Hughes. Please."

He heard nothing for a few seconds, then footsteps walked away and were joined by another pair. Soon afterwards the cell door closed.

Roy wanted to sigh in relief, but he was too tired to. He was too tired to do anything. He hoped when he was released, as Archer had assured Roy this morning he would be in a few days provided he turned over all his reactive gloves beforehand, he'd lose his spinal cord if the Portal didn't erase him fully when he tried human transmutation. Then no one would be in a position to pester him about moving.

He couldn't believe a sick joke like he was could succeed in human transmutation when no alchemist in all the millennia since scientists had started practicing it had succeeded, but he had to try. If there was the most infinitesimal chance he could resurrect Riza, he owed it to her to attempt to, whatever the cost. Further, he had an idea of a method he was sure few, if any, other alchemists had tried before. He'd research all the locations where the one called Father and the military had orchestrated massacres to learn the equation for transmuting a Philosopher's Stone, then discover if it was possible to combine it with a human transmutation circle for transmuting a single body, mind, and soul. If he could, maybe that would pull a soul back from the dead.

However, even if his idea wasn't possible, he'd try with a regular human transmutation circle. He had to make the endeavor one way or another.

If all went well, in what would hopefully be just a matter of weeks, he'd be erased from existence and Riza would be alive again, free to live the life she would have lived if he hadn't asphyxiated her by binding her to his empty delusions. Even if things didn't go well for Riza, he might still be erased.

If there was any thread of kindness whatsoever in the void that was reality, he would be.

.

Dante opened the doors of her mansion, and looked in the direction where the storm of chi of the Philosopher's Stone was moving.

She experienced a mixture of disappointment and fury.

It wasn't another of her step-grandchildren. A figure with blue eyes, in a white shirt and gray pants with a sword belted and sheathed at the left side of his waist, wearing a white mask with golden lines and circular golden protrusions at its lower sides and at the center of the front of the chin, was walking across her yard towards the steps leading up to her porch.

It was a repulsive human carrying a Stone inside or outside his or her body.

"Leave this place at once," she commanded, walking onto the porch. "I have no desire to entertain guests. If you don't remove yourself from my property right away I will kill you."

The person stopped walking and held up his or her hands. "I'm not here on orders from the Fϋhrer," the figure's voice was distorted by the mask, but unmistakably male. "I'm no threat to you, I assure you."

"I care not," Dante replied. She could believe him; she sensed the soldiers who had been stationed far from her home in the forest, no doubt to keep as good of an eye on her as they could, were still there, but this person was an alchemist and could have gotten past them by digging a tunnel under the forest. "I abhor spending time with other humans. I chose this place to live for a reason. Anyone who walks onto my yard defiles the quiet of my house. Now begone or I'll restore peace to this place myself."

The male snorted in amusement. "You're as misanthropic as I am, I see."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Dante asked. "This is your final warning. Leave or die."

"What good will that do you?" the figure questioned, and Dante blinked. This was new. "Even if you killed me, humans will continue to infest this barren wasteland of a world and tear it and themselves to rubble. You carry no weapon, so I assume you're an alchemist. If you abhor humanity, why aren't you using your alchemy to change this planet into a better place, one you approve of?"

Dante laughed. "Change the world? Has the Stone you carry robbed you of your good sense?" The male's eyes widened at her revelation she knew he had a Stone. "It's impossible to change this world. There's no hope for other humans. Countless people have tried to teach humans to coexist with one another through philosophy, law, religion, ethics, the arts, and more, and it's all been for nothing. Humans just use the lessons they're taught as a new means of devouring their fellows, or a new means of justifying intolerance of those who are different and the creation of new dividing lines that split people apart, or as new torches to run to in order to escape from reality. Try to improve the world and you'll give humans new vehicles with which to bring suffering upon others and themselves. Humans are too blinded by their sins for anyone to be able to save them. The best thing those of us who recognize humans are a blight upon existence can do is to take the things we value and remove ourselves from humanity where we can live and preserve what matters to us untouched by their decadence. Don't talk badly of _me_ for not trying to bring reform. I know how futile that is."

"What if I told you alchemy can unlock the all-knowing Truth within the All that will tell us how to create a better world?" the figure spoke. "What if I told you this Truth exists, not just as scientific laws but as a wellspring of complete information on all the workings of reality and everything existence has wrought since the beginning of time?"

Dante was slightly curious how this person knew of the existence of the planet's nervous system, but she sneered. "You don't know who you're talking to, boy. I've been aware the planet has a Gateway much longer than you've been alive."

The person's eyes widened, but then he asked, "Then why haven't you utilized it to establish a new world? Surely you know the Truth is absolute and holds the answers to saving this repugnant reality from itself." His eyes narrowed. "I see. You're the same as any other coward who wants to escape the Truth rather than embrace it."

Dante's jaw dropped, hate consuming her. First Greed had the audacity to tell her she'd never loved Hohenheim, now this mongrel human accused her of being as cowardly as the rest of them?

Thankfully, she didn't have to tolerate this from another human. Red coursed through the air, solidifying light particles into spikes of blue-white light, and they elongated at the human.

A green web of pure soul energy burst from the human and flew through the air into the spikes of light, ripping them apart. But Dante didn't waste any time wondering how the human was using a Philosopher's Stone to power his transmutations with an energy source that emitted _green_ light. More red crackled through the air and the remains of the spikes extended at the human.

However, another web of pure green soul energy appeared in the air between the two of them and shredded these spikes, and Dante's eyes widened. This alchemist had just transmuted through gases without transmuting something within the gases or first sending the transmutation through a solid. She'd thought she was the only alchemist in this area of the world who knew how to do that, unless Hohenheim had learned how to since he'd abandoned her. Who was this alchemist?

She sent red out into the air before her and transmuted a wave of lava out of it at the alchemist, but green light washed out from him into the air and a thick wall of ice shot at the wave of lava. The lava and ice met, sending hissing steam into the air, and then green played over the steam and it became whiplashes of boiling water that swung at her as the figure charged her amidst them with his sword leveled, maintaining the transmutation as he moved. Red currents emerged from her body to form a gigantic serpent of blue-white light that coiled in front of the whiplashes and blocked them, then attempted to close on the alchemist, but another green energy web formed in a dome over the alchemist and expanded, slicing the serpent apart. She solidified its pieces in red as a throng of serpents of blue-white and moved them winding through the web at the person, but the web vanished and a deadly green soul energy ran over the surface of the alchemist's body, his charge not faltering in the least as it did, and destroyed the throng as it touched him.

Then green soul energy was running over the figure's sword and its point was at her throat.

She smiled unpleasantly. "Go ahead," she urged him. "Neutralize any soul energy I transmute to break your sword with soul energy of your own. You can't threaten me with your sword. You can't harm me."

The male's eyes flew wide. "You're a living Stone, and you're a human. Human transmutations can work on living humans. Unbelievable."

Dante smiled with pride, unconcerned how the person knew what a living Stone was. "Indeed they can. Now surrender. It will make things swifter."

"Never," the person rejoined. "I haven't learned how to unlock the ultimate Truth to fall at the hands of a coward," Dante snarled viciously, "who won't lift a finger to save a world she could deliver from its misery. If you won't help me, I'll depart as you desire, but I won't die at your hands. I'll recreate this world, no matter what it takes."

"I'm no coward, you insolent worm," she responded. "I'm being realistic. You're dreaming in vain. Even should you open the planet's Gateway and become God, humans won't believe the Truth you've learned is any different than their relative hallucinations. You'll be forced to oppress the filth you want to save and coerce them to live by the Truth, and you'll thus contribute to the endless cycle of humans devouring each other. You're a naïve fool."

" _You're_ the fool," the figure replied, and Dante clenched her teeth. "Humans probably won't accept it, but the ultimate Truth is omniscient. There is _nothing_ it doesn't know. That means there's no question there's an answer within it that will tell me how to establish a new order without contributing to the cycle." Dante blinked. She'd never thought of that before. "That you don't see this is proof you're a coward." Dante snarled. "You want to flee this poisonous reality, so you're thinking about keeping it from becoming part of your life once again and haven't recognized learning the all-knowing Truth means you _will_ be able to break the cycle."

"I'll concede the ultimate Truth holds the answer to saving this world," Dante spoke. "I'm aware the solutions to all adversity lie within it, so I can believe it can tell you how to save this reality without becoming part of the cycle. But that I didn't recognize this before doesn't make me a coward. Not everyone dissatisfied with something believes he or she can change what he or she hates, as you do. A number of us just fail to see we can. _We're_ not all-knowing. We're limited to subjective, flawed perspectives of the absolute Truth.

"Nor does discovering I was wrong make me inclined to change anything. A number of us also just want to remove what we hate from our lives and live separate from its corrosion. That's what I desire. And that doesn't make me a coward. By that logic, anyone who wants to live in contentment and doesn't use his or her skills to benefit others is a coward. Can you honestly argue that?"

The masked alchemist was silent for a few seconds. "No," he responded. "In that case, I feel sorry for you." Dante clenched her teeth, even more furious now. She didn't need a human's sympathy! "You've sentenced yourself to lonely isolation when you could be reshaping this world into one you'd find true happiness within. Wouldn't you prefer humanity become a species you were willing to interact with, in a world where you could make friends and find someone you can love as a husband and live out your immortal life looking over the successive generations of your family and your friends' families, teaching them and guiding them so they don't repeat the mistakes of the old world and knowing the joy of meeting new descendants when they're born, and the satisfaction of being able to make a meaningful difference in this wretched universe? That's the life you deserve. Not a life where you exist alone in despair of the world around you, resigned to never know the happiness every living being should be able to attain. You're throwing away your chance at paradise, for no reason. That's anathema to what it means to exist on this planet. Almost everyone belongs in paradise, and you're no exception."

Dante would never be able to find another she could love as a husband, she wasn't alone, and she was happy as she was and had no need of the companionship of humans she could tolerate, but the other alchemist's words struck something within her. There was a conviction in them she hadn't known in anyone else save Hohenheim and she knew from the time she'd spent with Hohenheim was real, and a fervor in them she could tell for the same reasons was real and she hadn't even encountered in him. They called to her as no words a human had spoken had since Hohenheim's, and despite her hatred of humanity, she found a very small part of herself wanting to know this figure's paradise, and wanting to believe she should change the world, for the writhing humans who preyed upon themselves so they could thrive in the utopia they ought to have been living in since history began.

 _Should_ she assist this human? It _was_ possible to deliver this waste hole of a world, so it wouldn't be an exercise in futility. And if she did, she'd have the companionship of someone who possessed a sliver of the magnificence Hohenheim had possessed, and she'd believed she'd never be able to experience the tiniest thread of that magnificence again for eternity.

No. It was just a sliver. There was no reason to upend her happy, peaceful life for slivers. She was done arguing with him. She'd return to attempting to kill him and succeed or force him to run away and never return.

"It doesn't make a difference," she responded. "I'm content as I am now. I have no need of additional happiness."

Red energies ran off her into the porch and converted the stone below the alchemist into lava, but by the time any of it had altered into lava the alchemist had jumped into the air and had sent green through the air into the porch below Dante, deconstructing it and sending it up beneath her in loose pieces. She lost her balance and attempted to keep her footing, and in those seconds she was too busy staying on her feet to strike again, the alchemist spoke.

"You're above the pettiness that most humans let rule them." Again the conviction and fervor were in his voice, but Dante didn't care. She got her feet beneath her and a thick crackling red beam of pure soul energies rocketed from her forehead. The figure, now standing before the lava, held out his hand and launched a thick crackling green soul beam, and the two met and warred, the tremendous clash of energy ripping chunks of stone, the walls of the house, the roof of the porch, and the ground around the porch up into the air around them and sending large numbers of the chunks past them. "Almost everyone deserves happiness, but you deserve it more than most. You should clasp every atom of happiness you can seize." His beam split into two, shooting around hers, Dante split her own beam to counter, and the clash continued. "You're an effulgent gem who could light this dark wasteland with rays of hope." Dante's eyes widened. "Your happiness should radiate a brilliance that outshines the Sun."

Dante halted her transmutation, gazing at the other alchemist, stunned, and the other human ended his transmutation too. No one had spoken of her that way with that conviction in over three-and-a-half centuries, not since Hohenheim had divorced her, and no one had spoken of her that way with such fervor in all the years she'd been alive.

But now it had happened. Another human believed she had incredible value, and in ways not even Hohenheim had. It was almost impossible to believe a human could think that way, and it _was_ impossible to believe it was true she was that priceless, but it had happened.

Additionally, this alchemist understood how rotten humanity was, and understood her, and possessed at least a sliver of Hohenheim's magnificence, and perhaps more. This person was a human, but did she genuinely want to throw away the companionship of someone like this who thought these ways?

She knew the answer to that.

For the first time in centuries, she smiled a true smile at another human. "Maybe you're right," she conceded. "You may come in."

.

Julia looked on as Ed stood on the porch and rang the doorbell of the six-story townhouse in the row of eight connected townhouses the soldier here in Carvar on leave from his duties at the court martial office in Central had told them had room for five.

Julia was relieved they were finally here. That meant Ed could retrieve the screw missing from his automail arm, and maybe, just maybe, after Winry installed it in the arm, Julia or someone else would be able to say or do something to comfort Al, Ed, or Winry. She extremely highly doubted it, but she had to hope installing the screw would give them a better chance of being mended. She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't.

The past four days they'd traveled through Amestris on foot had been a new kind of nightmare for Julia. She'd known Ed and Al had been in a terrible state of mind that was far worse than the torture they were experiencing from Hawkeye's death, Mustang's collapse, and their belief they needed to abandon their dreams, since Al had told her he and Ed had been pushed beyond their emotional limits before she'd left Milos. But she hadn't had much of a concept of how truly horrific it was until she'd seen how Ed and Al had acted and had heard what they'd spoken when they'd reunited with Winry. Then it had been blindingly obvious; Ed and Al loved Winry almost as much as they loved each other, and their guilt over having unintentionally gotten her taken prisoner by Amestris' leaders as leverage against them and terror for what might have happened, be happening, or would happen, to her, had been making every second of each day and night since she'd been taken horror from the furthest depths of a bottomless abyss. Julia was aware how they'd gotten Winry's grandmother taken captive had contributed to their torment, and she didn't know if anything else was or wasn't tormenting Ed and Al, but that Winry had been held prisoner had told Julia what life was really like for the Elrics.

Now, Julia was aware, the horror their reality had become was even worse.

Winry was physically healthy, although undernourished because she hadn't been fed as well as she should have been when she'd been a prisoner, and she'd spoken she hadn't been through anything but captivity, but in many ways it would have been better for her if she had been tortured or starved than experience what she had after she'd been freed. She'd endeavored murder, and the revelation her mistake had almost killed Ed had wounded her far worse than her attempt to murder had in countless ways. She had stained hands that had once been utterly innocent, and had come apart.

And what she'd tried to do, and how terribly she had come apart, had made things so much worse for Ed and Al Julia couldn't compare how the two had spent the time since they'd reunited with Winry to how they'd spent the first days and nights she'd known them.

Ed now spent most of the time he was awake looking like he was just partially aware of the world around him and was gazing at things only he could see, and whether he was or wasn't, he spent his waking hours being overly supportive of Al and Winry. From the desperation in Ed's voice each time he offered to do something for one or both of them, it sounded as though he believed he might have to make up for not having supported them all the years of his life and, no matter what he did, it might not be enough to enable him to. Julia was certain from how close Ed was to his brother and Winry that _was_ how Ed felt. The first hours of their journey he'd frequently offered to help his brother traverse difficult stretches of terrain, and from time to time offered to help Winry do so, even after Al had assured Ed he didn't need help numerous times and Winry had requested Ed stay away from her multiple times, and hadn't stopped until they'd made camp. Even after that, after they'd broken camp and resumed traveling, he'd insisted Al not trouble himself carrying Pinako over difficult terrain in spite of Al reminding his brother his armor body was tireless, and had refused to back down until Pinako had threatened not to let anyone carry her no matter how difficult the path became if Ed didn't shut up. That hadn't put an end to Ed's desperate treatment of Al and Winry, however. Throughout the days of their journey, when the blue of transmutations wouldn't draw attention, he'd transmuted the slightest troublesome terrain to make it easier for them to traverse.

Julia had no evidence Ed's nightmares were any worse, but she was sure they were, and sure he'd barely be sleeping, or sleeping at all, if he hadn't known he needed to to be as alert as possible for threats to Winry and Pinako.

Al's armor had offered little evidence she could read as to how he was feeling, but how often he looked quietly at Winry, and how he was almost always close by Ed or Julia or close enough to Winry, while still staying at a distance, he'd be able to reach her with ease if she needed him to, not actively offering any support as Ed had but letting them know he was there for them if they wanted him, had made it clear he felt similar to how Ed did.

The first time they'd stopped to sleep, the afternoon of the day following the night they'd left Central, Julia had been determined not to leave Al to contend with his helplessness to do anything for Ed or Winry by himself, and hadn't turned in, but that had driven her powerlessness home to her so strongly her conversation with Al then had been seared into the deepest reaches of her brain.

" _Could you please get your sleep?" Al asked, and Julia looked from the uneasily sleeping Winry, her rest no doubt filled with nightmares of her own, at Al. "There's no reason for you to stay up for my sake. I told you, I brought most of my suffering upon myself. It's not a load you need to give anything of yourself to lighten."_

" _Don't be silly," Julia said. "Any suffering is a load I need to give something of myself to lighten, no matter why another is suffering."_

" _Not mine," Al replied. "I've spent weeks unable to think of a thing I can do for Brother. I haven't been able to think of a thing I can do for you, and now I can't think of anything I can do for Winry. I'm determined to now – I can't live with being unable to support others – and because of that I won't believe the worst things my mind is telling me about my inability. If you've been thinking I believe what Brother does, I don't. I don't believe I've never been able to take care of Brother before and may not be able to now." Thank goodness. Al just felt similar to Ed; he didn't believe those thoughts and feelings. "But it doesn't matter how determined I am, or what I won't believe, I still can't do anything for anyone else. I'm useless, so no one should be doing things for me."_

" _You know better than that," Julia said. "No one needs to be capable of giving kindness to receive it. Kindness isn't something you earn. Kindness is something that should be extended to others because it fosters and sustains them."_

" _That's not what I meant," Al responded. "Although that I don't need to earn kindness doesn't mean I can't be undeserving of it. What I mean is, I haven't given up on not believing the things I'm struggling for are definitely or likely lost causes, but currently, I can't do anything for anyone, so I'm dead weight. Until I'm able to learn how to help you, you won't get anything back if you support me. I know. The point of supporting others isn't to get something back. But you matter more than I do, so it's better for your sake if you give to those you can get something back from. That's why you shouldn't do things for me. For your sake, not because I haven't earned support."_

" _I don't care about what happens to me any more than you care about what happens to you," Julia spoke back. "Other people, and you, don't need me to feel better. Other people, and you, need me to be there for you."_

" _That_ is _what I need from you," Al replied. "I need to know you're being comforted, not that I am. And I need to know I'm not piling additional weights on you, and taking from you when you're in so much pain and I should be the one giving. Granny taught me I need to accept others' support, and if things were different I'd accept yours… but as things are I can't. Not when you're in so much need yourself. I'm so sorry. I'm_ so _thankful you want to give to me, and I wish I could accept your gift. But I can't. So could you please not sacrifice anything for me, now or at any time?"_

If she hadn't been used to living in torture from all the years she'd spent in Milos, she knew _she_ would have had nightmares when she'd gone to sleep then, and she would have been having them every night since. She wasn't just powerless, she couldn't even extend much support to someone as incredible as Al without injuring him terribly regardless of whether it assisted him or not.

Her helplessness was so agonizing it, too, was now taking her apart.

She'd been powerless for all the years since she'd returned to the valley. She taught the children and had learned more alchemy and had joined the Black Bats and taken instruction in how to fire a gun well enough she could pull her weight in battle, but she hadn't been able to do a thing to unlock the mysteries of her parents' research and the holy land. She'd had to watch her people suffer and die and continue through life knowing she could do very little to make things better for them or protect them. She couldn't take it, but she was familiar with what it was to be powerless.

But she'd never been helpless like this. In the valley, she'd been able to make a difference for the better in the lives of the people around her. She'd been able to offer kind words and smiles and hold people's hands and hug them and, by doing so, comfort or sustain them through their torment. She'd been able to use her limited skills at medical alchemy to treat the injured, or gun down officers in the Cretan secret police who were pursuing one of her countrymen or countrywomen, or work as a volunteer or an employee to perform jobs the Milosians had needed done, or run errands through the shantytown when one or more of her fellows had difficulties.

Now, Al and Ed and Winry were in shreds, and Julia couldn't do the tiniest thing to give them solace or healing or make their anguish easier to bear.

It hurt so much it was almost a physical thing.

She wanted to smile bitterly. One of the major sources of the pain consuming the Elrics and, Julia knew for certain, Winry, were their sensations of helplessness and their doubts or beliefs they couldn't do anything for each other, and she felt so increasingly powerless partially because Julia couldn't support those things. As Ed and Al felt more and more helpless to care for each others' sensations of helplessness, and for Winry's perception of her powerlessness. As Winry, even wanting Ed and Al not to come near her, felt powerless to care for the brothers' feelings of helplessness. Julia, Ed, and Al, and to a lesser extent, Winry, were all being strangled by a chain of weakness that fed upon itself and further weakened those suffocating within it in a worsening cycle. The more helpless Ed or Al or Julia felt, the worse the other two felt at being powerless to comfort the person feeling helpless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more powerless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more powerless, in turn causing the other two people to feel more helpless, and the cycle spiraled on. Furthermore, even Winry, who believed the brothers were better off away from her, was undoubtedly being eaten by the cycle.

Julia had to break that cycle. It was even more important she gain strength now, not just to free her people, but to free Al and Ed and Winry from the cycle of powerlessness breaking them down.

But how could she do it? The Crimson Star would free her people from terror and oppression, but what could enable her to banish Al's and Ed's and Winry's guilt and perceptions of inadequacy if Ed and Al wouldn't use the Star to transcend their human flaws and weakness?

It didn't matter she didn't know the answer, though. Al and Ed and Winry needed her, so she had to do it for them.

The front door opened, revealing a girl with short brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses wearing a light purple shirt and blue pants and holding an open book in her left hand. She smiled. "Hi!" she greeted cheerfully. "You're the Elric brothers and the Rockbells, correct? Focker at the court martial office, the soldier who has been moving us down here, called us and told us you were coming. I'm Sheska, and I live here with my sick mother and the home care physician Focker is paying to take care of her, a doctor named Jectun."

She looked over the five of them, then rested her gaze on Ed. "Your right forearm is dangling like a broken prosthetic, so I'm assuming it's automail and you're the Fullmetal Alchemist, as you have a metal limb."

Ed forced a smile, and Julia wondered why. "Finally, someone who got it right," he remarked. "People usually mistake Al," he pointed at Al, "For me."

Sheska held a finger to her chin. "That doesn't make sense," she spoke. "Alphonse is wearing armor. His body isn't metal. Why would people think he's you?"

"That's something I'd _love_ to know the answer to," Ed responded, but Julia knew it was one of the last things he cared about now. "At any rate," he gestured at Julia. "This is Julia Crichton. She's not an Amestrian. She's from Milos," Sheska's eyes lit up in delight, "A small country to the west that was annexed by Creta approximately four hundred years ago, and now partially belongs to Amestris too."

"She's from a culture that has existed for over three thousand years!?" Sheska cried excitedly. "That's amazing!"

"You know of Milos?" Julia questioned, surprised.

"I know all about it!" Sheska spoke back. "I read up on every culture that once surrounded Amestris from the earliest days of our nation until the present when I worked at the First Branch of the National Central Library, Riviere, Givvis, Intevel, Atolon, Beyron, Milos, you name it! I adore reading, and I scoured the library floor to ceiling and all of its books cover to cover, letting no word escape my eager eyes, leaving no page unturned."

"While you were doing your job?" Ed sounded skeptical.

Sheska hung her head, shoulders slumping in shame. "Yes. I was fired because of that. I was trying to earn enough money to move my mother to a better hospital, but I lost my job because of my incompetence. Again."

"Don't feel bad," Al spoke. "You would have lost your job anyway when the First Branch was burnt, and now your mother is receiving care from a doctor who can pay full attention to her. You didn't do anyone any harm by losing your job and things are better for your mother now in multiple ways, even though they're worse in others because she doesn't have the resources of a large city's hospital at her disposal. Additionally, you weren't killed, so you have plenty of chances to improve your skills and find a job you'll be able to keep."

Sheska smiled at Al. "Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," Al replied.

Sheska appeared to become aware what the discussion was resulting in, for her eyes went wide.

"I'm sorry," she said. "There's no need for you to stand out here talking with me after journeying so far on foot. Come on in."

"The people with me will," Ed spoke, "But there's something else I ought to do first." Al spun to look at him. "I need to retrieve something from Resembool, further east, and I might as well get started right away. So I won't be staying for a number more days."

"Don't you mean 'us?'" Al questioned.

Ed gave Al a sad look. "I wish I did," he responded, sounding so exhausted Julia knew he wouldn't be moving if he didn't need to look after Al. Her heart ached at the knowledge Al must be in the same state, as well as at the knowledge Al must not have been apart from his brother for multiple days before. "But it will be easier for me to get to Resembool and back if I'm not traveling with you. The military must be searching for us, and you're more conspicuous than I am, and would be even if you were wearing a hood and concealing garments. Further, the military will be looking for a pair of people that consists of a large person and a… short person. If we're not together, there's less of a chance of us getting caught, or anyone following us here. There's no reason for you to come with me to Resembool, so it's better I go alone."

Al sighed heavily. "You have a point. All right."

She could offer support without sacrificing anything here. She knew for certain it wouldn't comfort Al the most miniscule bit, but she could offer support.

 _Why are you feeling any relief? It doesn't give you the ability to assist him._

She suppressed the urge to clench her hands and put her hand on his shoulder.

"You won't be alone," she said. "I'm not Ed, but I'm here. So are Winry and Pinako."

"Thanks," he responded, but he didn't try to keep his anguish out of his voice. He clearly knew it wouldn't fool her.

"You're welcome."

"Actually," Pinako put in, "I'll be going with Ed." Ed looked at her, startled. "I should retrieve as many of Winry's and my belongings from our house as I can, and I won't have any trouble being inconspicuous."

Ed shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He looked at Winry with an expression that made it clear he didn't want to leave her, or put any amount of separation between them that left her out of easy reach.

Winry turned away from him and looked down. "The screw is on the table in the living room to the left of the couch," she spoke quietly, "Relative to facing it. It's labeled 'E-23.'"

Innumerable emotions showed in Ed's expression. "I see."

.

Ed climbed the dirt path up the hill toward the cemetery, Granny at his side. He'd taken off the faded white hooded rags he'd worn over his black clothing when he'd made it a decent distance into Resembool, and Granny was still in the rags but with her hood down.

He didn't want to come here. The sooner they took the screw and the Rockbells' belongings from Winry's and Granny's house, the sooner he could return to Alphonse and Winry. And he wanted to return to them so badly it was almost physical. He'd never been apart from Al for over six days in his life, and by now the lack of his brother's presence was an infinite aching void in his heart that was so empty not even emptiness existed inside it. He'd known from the time he'd lost his limbs he hadn't genuinely lost any of his body, because Al was half of his body and Al had still been with him, but he was aware of that now in ways he'd never been before now Al wasn't at his side.

Because now that half of his body was gone. He was such a shell now he would have felt more complete if all of his limbs were automail if he was with his brother. In addition, he knew Alphonse had to feel similar. Every second Ed was away from his brother he was tormenting Al in new inexpressible ways.

Not being within easy reach of Winry where he could protect her if High Command found her was in countless ways more terrifying than her captivity had been, because now that she was free she had much more to lose if she was captured a second time, because she was immeasurably less in shape to endure further captivity in her current mindset, and because there was a very high chance if the military located her they'd kill her, and Edward would wholly lose her, to punish Edward for continuing to defy them. He knew he needed to get used to not being within easy reach of her because as soon as she fixed his automail forearm he'd be returning to Central and setting the stone rolling, but after he might have failed to support her since he'd known her, after he'd wounded and twisted her so incomprehensibly horribly, and as uncertain as he was he could take care of her, he felt so guilty at thinking of not worrying about her as much he was unwilling to do it.

His nightmares and waking mind's eye were filled with sights of him standing at the front door of the townhouse in Carvar, looking at a motionless Al sitting on the porch in a way that made it obvious he was wholly unaware of reality as Winry's broken corpse lay atop a dead soldier, gaping wounds torn into her on every surface of her body and a bloodied knife in her hand buried in the chest of the soldier who had assaulted her as she cried tears of blood. Or sights of Winry with a rifle in her hands shooting soldiers in the head and causing blue currents to play over their heads and the backs of their heads to detonate in blood and shreds of flesh before a soldier hurled a knife through her throat and her corpse fell into the arms of an Al shaking so violently his armor was falling into pieces.

Ed had to go back to Carvar. It wouldn't make the nightmares any less horrible. Before they'd arrived there his waking eye and dreams had beheld Winry stab people; shoot people; construct automail limbs, connect them to patients, and then flick a switch and cause blades or gun turrets to extend from the limbs and shoot or impale the patient; strangle people; smash people over the head with her wrench until they died; slice open the stumps of people's limbs and look at them bleed to death; and more. At times she'd be crying tears of blood, at times she'd be laughing ecstatically or gazing with complete apathy at her victims. In other visions or beyond nightmares she'd be running from him and Al into a circle of soldiers who would then riddle her with bullets or activate a transmutation circle she'd run onto and she'd warp into one of the Chimeras he'd dreamed of her becoming before they'd reunited. But he _could_ take away the pain Al was experiencing from Edward's absence by returning to him, when Ed went back to Carvar he'd be together with Al, and when Ed went back he'd know Winry was alive.

Granny wanted to visit her children's graves, though, and tell them their murderer had saved their daughter from captivity, and though the concept of Granny saying anything good about Winry's parents' killer to them made him sick to his stomach, Edward couldn't risk leaving Granny by herself when he didn't have to.

He reached the top of the hill and continued down the path, then stopped as he registered someone was standing in front of Mom's grave.

Granny's eyes widened and her mouth opened, and she stopped too. "Hohenheim!" she cried.

Edward jolted violently.

But looking at the person's back, the figure's blonde hair and ponytail waving in the breeze against a brown coat as the person held a suitcase in one hand, the sight intermingled with his memory of seeing that same hair and ponytail against a back as he looked in Hohenheim's study with Al behind him, with hazy memories of a face with a blonde ponytail on a photograph in the Rockbells' living room, and with his memory of seeing that same coat and hair and ponytail as Hohenheim opened the front door of their house and walked out of it, suitcase in hand, never to return.

There was no question about it. It was him.

Edward walked in front of Granny, molten fury searing him, but it wasn't enough to keep terror away. He knew from Greed's words Hohenheim wasn't a Homunculus, but Teacher had told them Hohenheim knew a lot about the Philosopher's Stone, so that didn't mean he wasn't allied with them.

Had Hohenheim found them and followed them here? Were servants of the one called Father even now at Carvar, recapturing or killing Winry?

Hohenheim turned to face them, and for a moment Ed thought from the redness in Hohenheim's eyes he had been crying, but Edward scoffed derisively. That was impossible. There was no way _Hohenheim_ could have cried because Mom had died.

Hohenheim's eyes widened, and he walked out of the entrance to the cemetery. Edward wanted to run up and punch him in the face with his left fist, but he pushed the urge down. They were near Mom's grave, and that would leave Granny open.

"Edward?" Hohenheim asked. "Is that you?"

Edward snarled. "As if you care," he responded. "But yes. I am."

Then Hohenheim looked at Granny. "Pinako," he smiled. "I'm glad to see you. I was told you and Winry had been arrested."

He looked behind him, and Edward followed Hohenheim's gaze to see him looking at the burnt ruins of their house.

 _Mom was as horrible transcending thought as an infinite nightmare Al had been erased all reality was blinding anguish_

Ed violently wrenched his mind away from the visions and wrenched his head away from the sight of what remained of his house, heart pounding, shaking violently, and fought to keep his stomach from ridding itself of its contents and reality separate from illusion. He couldn't break down now. He had to protect Granny. As well, there was no way he was going to be weak in front of Hohenheim.

Hohenheim looked back at them. "I came back here earlier today to discover my house burnt to rubble and the Rockbell residence empty, and upon asking around I learned Trisha had died of illness years ago, you, Edward, had left Resembool to enlist in the military as a State Alchemist, and you, Pinako, had been arrested over two months ago. Would one or both of you please tell me what has happened here in the time I've been gone?"

.

"My hands ain't any cleaner! I shouldn't be able to carry Marlene neither."-Barret Wallace

FINAL FANTASY VII


	15. The Corpse of a Human That Wasn't

.

 **CHAPTER 15:**

 **THE CORPSE OF A HUMAN THAT WASN'T**

.

Pride walked down the hall of the mansion he lived in with Wrath towards the corner the hall led to the dining room beyond, and turned it.

He wasn't capable of feeling shock, but the sight of what had happened down the hall brought him to a halt, and for reasons he couldn't understand, he had trouble breathing and sensations he couldn't name consumed him.

A number of feet down the hall, a boy with long black hair and purple eyes wearing a dark blue shirt falling to around the top of his stomach and dark blue shorts stood with an arm of stone impaling the woman the populace of Amestris believed was Pride's mother through the chest and back, Cordelia's blood flowing down from a mouth twisted in agony as her lifeless eyes gazed down at the boy.

Then a different version of that unknown thing Pride had experienced when Mustang had caused them the major setback at Liore, one far more intense, consumed him as well, screaming for him to extend his shadow body and rip Cordelia's murderer to pieces.

Pride saw no reason not to do what it wanted.

He slithered and flowed out of his humanoid container and flowed out of his greater container from one of the shadows cast by the walls, sending pointed protrusions with open eyes and protrusions with large tooth-filled maws out at the boy with deadly speed, striking with the ones from his greater container so quickly most humans wouldn't have had time to realize what was happening. They stabbed into the boy and closed around him–

Then ripped apart as red lights coursed over the boy, sending pain ripping through Pride. The boy turned to face Pride, red currents running up the deep wounds in his body, and flesh and bone and muscle began to grow and fill them.

What it meant the boy's arm was stone registered, and Pride was aware his mouth was hanging open. Pride became less aware of his trouble breathing and the sensations consuming him he couldn't identify. "You're a Homunculus!"

The boy smiled. "That's right. My name is Joshua. You must be Pride. It's a pleasure to at last meet you after all these years, nephew."

Pride wasn't capable of feeling shock, but for an unknown reason, his mind had difficulty processing what that last word meant. "You… you're one of the pure Homunculi the woman who hurt Wrath transmuted!" That unknown thing that wanted to kill this Homunculus inexplicably surged at the knowledge they were related. "Yet you're out of your original flask, and we've received no reports of hundreds of thousands of people vanishing in Amestris or any of our closer or further neighbors, and if that many people had, we would have heard rumors of something unusual going on in this area of the world by now even if we hadn't heard what it was. How do you have a humanoid body? Furthermore, if you're a living Stone, how was I able to hurt you?"

"Those things are none of your concern," Joshua replied. "All you need to know is Mom became aware of a way to free my sister and I, and now that she has children who can fight for her," if Pride had been capable of feeling revolted, he would have felt that way now. It didn't matter the two Homunculi were obeying their creator, no Homunculus should lower himself or herself to serve a human, "She's had a change of heart about her stepson. I was sent here to kill Cordelia Bradley as a message. Our mother, Dante, is no longer willing to tolerate being besieged until the Promised Day. Should you lay siege to her or cause her any other problems, she will pick off the members of the government, the military, and the economy who are most closely connected to you," the unknown thing surged anew at the threat to Father, "Little by little, until you have no human colleagues who can carve your remaining crests of blood or gather your sacrifices, making it harder for you to fulfill your dreams. Should you still cause her trouble, she will claim her stepson's underground Philosopher's Stone when he passes through the planet's Gateway and is disconnected from it, and we will then break that Stone into pieces and offer those Stones to thousands of alchemists in other nations in this region of the world in exchange for them launching hit-and-run attacks on you, and your father will frequently have the seclusion he desires after he attains God," so Dante was aware what all their goals were. Had Greed told her all this? "disturbed. Am I understood?"

"Do you honestly believe we're going to cave to your threats?" Pride replied, and he had to struggle to keep his voice from rising. "We're not cringing humans who can be made to cower before blackmail. We're Homunculi, and as you have yet to learn, that makes us above human weaknesses. We're especially not going to cave to blackmail delivered by a Homunculus who would disgrace himself to serving a human, even if it is his progenitor. That would shame us, and Homunculi have their honor to uphold. Withdraw your threats, or reap the reward."

"Then it appears we're at an impasse." Joshua withdrew his stone arm from Pride's supposed mother, seized her throat, and tore her head off.

The unknown thing consumed him further, and Pride's vision blurred. Pride's eyes widened. He was crying and he wasn't putting on an act? Because a Homunculus had brutalized a human? Impossible!

Joshua threw Cordelia's head at Pride's feet, and the Stone Homunculus found himself transfixed by the shape of her mouth and the lack of anything in her gaze. Memories of the times that mouth had smiled at him with pride, with approval, with joy, with warmth, and those eyes had looked at him like he was one of the most valuable people in the world, and with love, flooded his mind, and his vision blurred further.

Pride extended a pointed shadow protrusion up to his humanoid container's eyes and sliced them open, uncaring of the agony that tore through him out from his eyes, blackness replacing the sights before him.

He couldn't feel revolted by himself, but he knew this was revolting! So what if he knew the closest thing to intrigue about a human for her he was capable of experiencing when he was unable to feel any emotion but pride? So what if she'd selflessly endangered herself to save him from a car? So what if she had taught him what it was like to have a mother? She was still a human! She was a domesticated beast of burden! He was shaming all Homunculi by crying for her! What was wrong with him!?

This was ludicrous, too. She lived just to contribute to Father's Amestrian Philosopher's Stone. If Joshua hadn't killed her now, in a matter of months she would have become one of the closest things to dead, even though she'd have lived on as part of Father. He'd accepted that without shedding a tear. Why in the world was he crying because she was truly dead?

His vision returned as his humanoid container healed, but hotness pushed against the backs of his eyes. He clenched his teeth and kept it back there.

"Don't be ashamed." Pride clenched his teeth further at the sympathy in Joshua's words, and wanted to lash out at the other Homunculus with a shadow for showing him kindness.

But this was insane. He couldn't feel anger, and even if he could have there was no reason to be furious with Joshua for murdering Cordelia. He needed to stop being an idiot. He was Father's firstborn, and as such he was more responsible than any of his siblings for carrying out Father's will. Cordelia's death meant nothing.

But the tears kept trying to push their way into his eyes.

"She treated you like you were really her son," Joshua was saying. "Yes, humans are filth. They're an infestation that should have wiped itself off the surface of the planet long ago. But she took care of you. Why wouldn't you love her?"

Pride's jaw dropped, and if he could feel anything but pride, he would have been burning with absolute mortification. His reactions were giving Joshua the impression he _loved_ Cordelia!? He had to put an end to this right now! The concept a Homunculus could love a human was a disgrace to everything it meant to be a Homunculus.

He opened eyes and a mouth in the protrusion of shadow spreading out from the shadow in the hallway and then shot cords of shadow out of the protrusion into his humanoid container's eyes and kept the cords there so they couldn't regenerate, pushing the pain from having the points embedded in his eyes aside as best he could.

"Because I'm a higher link in the evolutionary chain," Pride spoke from the shadow mouth. He felt sick to his stomach looking at Joshua now. Joshua's words almost certainly meant he loved Dante. "Humans are sustenance for us, not symbionts."

Joshua laughed. "Give me a break. Homunculi are artificial creations. We didn't evolve, we were manufactured. Humans are beneath us because they're depraved, not because we're a higher life form. Homunculi should have the same pride in themselves humans have in being humans, but be realistic. We're not a new species in the world's ecosystem. We're not a species at all. We're products of human construction, no different than carriages."

"We're products of the Philosopher's Stone," Pride responded. "And we're products of the Truth itself. Both things make us natural outgrowths of the circulation of nature. Further, because we were born from the truth and the Stones that give us life enable us to experience the Truth without paying a price, we're life forms nearer to the Truth than unevolved humans. How could we _not_ be higher beings?"

"Because we _aren't_ natural," Joshua spoke back. "We're not outgrowths, we were built. But continue to believe the nonsense my stepbrother has been spoon feeding you all your lives," Pride suppressed the surge of the unknown thing. Joshua had insulted Father, but he could _not_ let the other Homunculus get to him after the misconception his previous reactions had created, "If you want to. I've done what I was sent here to do. I'm out of here."

"Stop referring to us as if we're your family," Pride ordered him, shifting his shadows to attempt to catch the Homunculus and keep him from escaping, even though Pride knew from his initial assaults it wouldn't accomplish anything. "You're enemies of Father. You're no family of ours."

"Whatever." Red crackled over Joshua's legs, and Pride launched countless thin cords of shadow at the pure Homunculus, but Joshua let them impale him through his body all over and _merged_ with the stone and carpet of the floor, and then he was gone.

Pride didn't want to move. He didn't understand why, but a part of him didn't want to walk away from Cordelia's corpse and severed head as if they meant nothing. Additionally, his inexplicable reactions to his supposed mother's death and the brutalization of her corpse would have concerned him if he could feel that emotion. They were anathema to how a Homunculus should react to the death of a human. Something was very wrong with him, and another part of him wanted to figure out what and fix it before doing anything else.

But he had to. Father needed to be informed the living Stone in the south was now an active threat to them right away. That was all that mattered. Not his mysterious reactions, and definitely not his supposed mother.

Furthermore, he didn't need to think about his mysterious reactions. They were anathema, but he was born of sin and wasn't infallible as Father was. So long as he knew his place and purpose in life and how he was supposed to live, it didn't matter if he faltered occasionally so long as his stumbling didn't inconvenience Father. There was no reason to think about his reactions. His supposed mother was a memory now, so they would never happen again, so he'd be wasting time if he thought about them.

He removed his protrusions from his humanoid container's eyes, retracted into his greater container, and waited for his humanoid container's vision to return.

Then he turned and walked in the direction of Wrath's study, and the elevator concealed there that would take him down to Father's underground complex.

But the hotness behind Pride's eyes refused to go away.

.

Edward glared hatefully and furiously at Hohenheim.

How dare he ask that question if he was being honest!? He stayed away from them for years, murdered their mother, and then he had the nerve to ask what had happened while he had been gone when he should have been here the whole time and prevented it from happening!?

"That's none of your concern," Edward grated. "You lost any claim you had on being part of our family when you deserted us. All I'll tell you is Winry and Granny won't be coming back to Resembool for a long time, I'm no longer a State Alchemist," he still had his pocketwatch, as much as he wished he could break it or throw it away, because he knew keeping it might prove useful in the future, but so far as he was concerned, he'd stopped being the Fullmetal Alchemist the night he'd reunited with Winry, "And I'm not going to tell you where they are or where we're staying. There's no reason for you to stick around here or talk to us, so get back out of my life where you belong."

Granny gave Ed an angry look, and faced Hohenheim. "There's nothing more to tell you about Trisha's initial death," Hohenheim's eyes widened, "than what you've heard. She died from a disease. Ed and Al learned how to perform human transmutation to try to resurrect her, but they failed, she died again shortly after she was resurrected, and Ed lost his left arm and right leg and Al lost his whole body when the transmutation went wrong." Behind his glasses, Hohenheim's eyes widened, and for a number of seconds he looked as though he was fighting back tears. But Ed knew he was misinterpreting Hohenheim's expressions. The bastard was incapable of shedding a tear over anything, much less over what his children had suffered. "Al's soul is now embedded in a suit of armor serving him as a body, and Ed's missing limbs were replaced by automail prosthetics. A Colonel in the military visited Resembool to investigate the transmutation and offered Ed the option of becoming a State Alchemist so he'd gain access to research material that might enable him and Al to regain their bodies. Ed accepted, and served the military for around three years until he found out they're very corrupt and rebelled against them. The military arrested Winry and I to try to force Ed to continue serving as a State Alchemist, but we recently escaped and now he's deserted. We returned here to retrieve things from my house."

"What about my house?" Hohenheim asked. "What happened to it?"

"I think Ed and Al burned it down so they wouldn't be able to turn back from their quest to regain their bodies," Granny replied.

Hohenheim looked at Ed. "No," he spoke. "You didn't." Edward went stiff. "You burnt it down to run away. You didn't want to be reminded of what you'd done, and you thought you could erase the memories by hiding the evidence."

 _Al was gone Mom was as indefinably horrific as an infinite nightmare everything was gone he'd wiped Al from existence he'd murdered Mom everything was blinding pain_

His subsiding shaking becoming violent, Ed shoved the visions away, and opened his mouth to yell at Hohenheim for presuming to know anything about his children's motives.

But the words wouldn't come out.

He didn't want to admit Hohenheim might be right about anything, he didn't want to even _think_ it, but he could believe that was why they'd burnt their house. He and Al had been too cowardly to accept the truth even after they'd learned twice what happened when they didn't, and Ed had discovered he hadn't even been _confronting_ the truth when he'd learned how ignorant he was. So he could believe he'd run away from the truth of the most painful experience in his life.

And because he could believe that was why, he could see, as much as he loathed doing so, he _had_ to believe it. There was no other explanation for why he'd been consumed by terror surmounting the name each time he'd seen the ruins of his house after reality had become an incomparably more frightening place, and why he'd been consumed by that terror that wasn't terror when Armstrong had spoken of him and Al burning their house and now when Hohenheim had.

 _Al was gone his garb and shoes were empty Mom was darker than the most pitch black abyss boundlessly darker than the void she violently threw up blood and her arm fell and she lay still and dead everything was pain he'd done it he'd totally destroyed_ everyone _he loved most now_

Edward clenched his teeth, and this time he didn't force the visions away. He loathed the concept of being weak in front of Hohenheim, but this was more important. He let the fully real sights of Al's empty garments and shoes and Mom as horrific transcending horrific as an infinite nightmare blacker than darkness endlessly more lightless than the void with deformed ribs sticking at impossible angles out of her torso and her arm fighting to rise and her upside down head violently retching blood, and the memories of all-consuming blinding emotional anguish that wasn't agony at the knowledge he'd erased Al and riven both Mom and Al from reality now and now they were both gone and all-consuming blinding physical anguish wiping out everything from the bleeding stump of his left leg, keep him from being aware of reality around him. His stomach clenched and heaved violently and, as hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the contents of his stomach from rushing into his mouth, but he didn't let himself double over. He turned to his left and threw up, but he held out his left hand behind him, warding Granny off, and threw up and retched and threw up and retched until he was dry heaving and then dry heaved and dry heaved and dry heaved and dry heaved until he was too weak to do that. But he didn't let himself fall to his knees, and he let the visions stay before him and his mind remember the feelings and sensations until reality returned of its own volition.

Then he looked up at the burnt remains of his house. His weaker shaking grew worse, and Al's empty clothes and shoes and Mom's black form worse than an infinite nightmare appeared again, as vividly as if they were real, and his stomach spasmed and tried to dry heave, but he could endure it.

No.

It was more than that.

The terror had lessened drastically, and even the inexpressible terror of losing Al had lessened.

The terror of a reality where people were willing to regard countless millions as laboratory specimens and sacrifice them, where the deaths of uncountable millions was a rudimentary portion of the flow of the universe, where the alchemy he believed in was horrific, where common alchemists were willing to treat people as lab samples, where people had committed genocide, where someone had erased Xerxes, and where Winry might be killed and he might lose her… most of it was nowhere near as consuming or debilitating or anything else now, and even his terror Winry would die and he'd lose Winry wasn't as horrific. In addition, the terror surpassing the word 'terror' he'd lose Al to the planet's Gateway was noticeably less consuming; extremely slightly, but enough he could tell there was a difference.

Further, reality was much less ghastly. It was still far more ghastly than what he'd thought it had been before the night the Freezer had turned his life upside down for the second time, but not as greatly, and it wasn't as cold and dark. And it was more comforting now, and welcoming, and in multiple ways it was kind again, even kinder than it had been when he'd been playing with Nina. His eyes widened as he realized it was the kinder than it had been at any time since his failed human transmutation.

Furthermore, he wasn't as exhausted, now. He was consumed completely by more terrible guilt, from his murder of Nina and from his murder of Hawkeye, for now that he was more stable emotionally, he could experience the full impact of his murder of Hawkeye. And he genuinely _cared_ again.

And he felt lighter than he had at any time in his life in innumerable ways. Reality was far clearer than it had been at any time in his life before, as well, as if it were a crystal that had been cleaned of all dirt. He could see with a clarity he'd never known as long as he could remember.

He _knew_.

 _This_ was why he hadn't been able to accept the Truth. Because he'd never even genuinely confronted it. All these years he'd known what Rose was going through in ways he'd never once imagined. Even as he'd shattered the illusions she'd clung to and had thought he'd known what it was like to have the daydreams he believed in ripped to tatters and to be forced to face the reality about them, he hadn't been confronting the truth any more than she had. He'd been running away into comforting lies just like her, because it had hurt too much to face the reality around him. He'd been a hypocrite all this time; he'd believed others should face the truth, but the whole time he had he'd been unwilling to do that himself.

This was why Nina was dead. This was why Hawkeye was dead, and Mustang's life was rubble.

But now, at last, he was confronting it. And because of that, now he _would_ be able to accept it. Now he _had_ learned. Additionally, because facing the Truth that had tormented him for years was causing it to be far less terrifying, most of the rest of reality wasn't as frightening or painful. He could cope with most of it now. He was certain he had legs now, even though he wasn't sure he could take care of Al. He could move forward into the new, terrifying world the Freezer had pulled him into now. This was what he'd needed to do to move forward; not from Nina's death and Hawkeye's and what Ed had done to Winry, but from the terror, and worse, of the hideous reality.

However, now that he was thinking about moving forward once more, and now that he could care again, he was certain there was no reason to, and countless reasons not to.

For it was still far too late. He was sure now he'd learned, and he could accept the Truth, and face it, but that wouldn't make him any less a hopeless infant who refused to learn the lessons he or she should have because the world wasn't what he or she wanted it to be, and now he'd murdered two people because he'd been a hopeless infant. Additionally, he'd hurt Winry more than he'd been terrified of in his worst fears and might not be able to take care of Al or her. As well, he really _hadn't_ been an alchemist. He'd been a total fake from the moment he'd begun studying alchemy. He was fathomlessly more of a pathetic disgrace to everything he stood for than he'd believed after Winry had been captured. So why move forward? It wouldn't bring Nina or Hawkeye back to life, or put the pieces of what had once been Winry back into the form they'd been in before she'd tried to kill Scar, or enable him to take care of Al or her for sure, or rewrite all the years he'd been betraying what he should have been upholding.

Ed would really confront and accept the Truth from now on, but he wouldn't move forward. Nor would he carry his pain more effectively, even though many things hurt much less now. To do any of those things would be to shrug off the enormity of all the horrible things, or worse, he'd done and might not be able to not fail to do.

His shaking subsiding once more, he looked at Hohenheim, who again appeared to be fighting back tears. "Fine," Ed snarled, hatred and fury consuming him again as the sight of Hohenheim reminded Edward it had been this _bastard_ who had been the one to at last enable him to confront the truth, and the bastard had done it by showing up out of nowhere and lecturing Ed after abandoning him and Alphonse for years. "We ran away. What is it to you? Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your father," Hohenheim replied. "I know I haven't been around to show it, but I do care about your well-being. I want you to stand tall and thrive in this world, not hide away from it."

Edward fisted his hand. "Yeah, right," he responded derisively. "And even if you weren't lying, it's too late. I've been hiding from the world for years, and I've done irreversible damage to it in the process. I'll face it now, but not I or anyone else will gain anything from me doing so. You can't do anything for me even if you _do_ want to. It's too late for that."

.

It hurt Hohenheim to witness how much Edward hated him. It wasn't surprising, and he'd prepared himself to experience this whenever he saw his son again. But it still hurt, with a deep ache that was like a large, open hole in his heart.

He'd endure any amount of aches like this, though, if he could give Edward the strength he clearly needed desperately.

Hohenheim hadn't believed telling Edward he'd run away would work, but it had. Edward hadn't physically changed in the seconds between when Hohenheim had revealed to his son the genuine reasons he'd burned down his house, but the way he stood had. When Hohenheim had first seen Edward standing on this path, the air his posture had given off had been that of someone hunched over and savagely beaten down by the world, his shoulders curled in on themselves, his back bowed and straining under a burden so heavy no scale could weigh it. Now, looking at his son's back from the side, Edward's shoulders appeared broader, his stance straighter.

But it wasn't enough. Edward was standing better, but he still appeared drained and exhausted, and looked as if his back and shoulders were in danger of hunching again at any time. Not so much he'd hunch over as greatly again, but enough he'd go back to straining under the weight he was carrying in different ways, ones nearly as bad as before.

As awkward as Hohenheim knew it was to talk about these things so soon after reuniting with Edward for the first time in years, Hohenheim had to say more. He had to convince Edward something _could_ be gained from facing the truth.

He didn't know if this was wise. If, since Alphonse had become a suit of armor, it hadn't yet been brought to Edward's attention his younger son had memories from before he had lost his body Edward didn't, with Edward as he was, saying this could break the back that had just straightened. The chances of that not having happened were miniscule, though, so Hohenheim had to take the risk.

He turned to Pinako.

.

"Pinako," Hohenheim addressed Granny, and Ed ground his teeth. He wasn't surprised the bastard was ignoring the reality of how useless his lesson had been, as hypocritical as it made Hohenheim, but it infuriated Edward further anyway. "I have a question for you."

"That being?" Granny questioned.

"The life form my sons transmuted… Are you sure they reconstructed the real Trisha?"

Ed stiffened. He knew full well they hadn't brought back his mother in her real was bad enough Hohenheim had the nerve to speak to Edward at all. What possible reason could Hohenheim have for talking about _that!?_

"I saw the thing they tried to resurrect," Granny spoke back, sounding confused. "I personally buried it behind their house. It was so misshapen I wouldn't even call it a life."

"That's not what I meant," Hohenheim spoke. "Did you look in the Elric family archives? Did any of the features on the life form have any resemblance to anyone in Trisha's family? Also, did any of the life form's features have any resemblance to Trisha herself?"

Edward staggered back as if physically struck, everything outside him and within him turned to frozen ice so cold it burned, and reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled over and over violently. His stomach spasmed again, still too weak to once again dry heave, and his shaking worsened, but Edward was just aware of those things, or that Hohenheim was talking to him and was discussing these things soon after appearing out of the blue after having been gone for over a decade, at the barest edges of his perception. And everything Edward was aware of was distorted, and as if it was happening to someone else, and came from somewhere immeasurably far off.

"Why are you asking?" Granny questioned back. "Are you saying the boys lost their bodies and had to risk their lives because they transmuted something that wasn't even Trisha? Even with what I've learned recently, that's one of the cruelest things I've heard in my life!"

No.

Hohenheim had to be wrong, or deceiving them. He had to be. He'd never performed human transmutation, so he didn't know what the result was even though his texts had covered the subject in-depth. Or he had but he'd paid an imperfect Stone as the price, and the Stone had failed after it had been paid before the transmutation was finished, warping the life Hohenheim had attempted to create even more than the life Ed and Al had tried to transmute had been twisted. Or he _was_ serving the one called Father and was lying to attempt to break Ed so he'd be an easier target.

He couldn't be right, or telling the truth.

Because if he was, if human transmutations on natural-born humans didn't fail because no one had discovered the proper equation or the missing agreement, but because they were utterly impossible, then that meant Al–

Edward became aware his mind had stopped thinking for an unknown period of time, and kept his mind away from the thought. It was completely outside of the ability of his mind to process. It was horror that wasn't horror on a level that should have shattered his mind to nothing.

However, although he couldn't think it, he was immeasurably more terrified now than he'd been before at any time in his life, even when his failed human transmutation had erased Al and he'd been terrified surmounting thought Al was lost forever.

Because he knew there was a very good chance Hohenheim _was_ right. The person was a bastard, but Ed knew he'd gotten his brains from him, and he knew Hohenheim was every bit as much of a genius as Edward was. The layers of depth, the intelligence of his hypotheses and theories, and numberless other things in the alchemy texts of his Ed and Alphonse had studied before performing human transmutation had proven that further. Hohenheim was as brilliant as Ed and his brother, and he was older and thus had years more experience than Ed did.

If Hohenheim believed Ed and Alphonse hadn't reconstructed a deformed body for Mom, there was a very good chance they hadn't.

Ed ground his teeth so tightly they should have chipped, though, and took in a deep breath, then let it out, then took in another. All he wanted to do was collapse to his knees and shake weakly until his rapidly pounding heart broke out of his chest, but he was _not_ going to show weakness in front of Hohenheim, even though there was no question he could prevent himself from being weak now. Especially not when it was about _Al!_

Reality returned in a stable state, and Edward glared at Hohenheim over his teeth. "Why are you bringing this up?" he snarled. "Do you want me to see for myself?"

But Hohenheim didn't reply. He looked at Edward for a few seconds, then faced Granny again. "I'd intended to stay for about a week, but as I have no house and yours will be empty, I'll leave now." At least the bastard had the decency to leave swiftly like he swiftly brought up things he had no justification to talk about. "Would I be correct to assume you took care of our family photographs after Trisha died, though?"

"That would be accurate," Granny responded, her face a mask.

"Then there's a photo I'd like to take with me. May I recover it from your house?"

"Go ahead. You'll find a collage of them in the living room, and the others in books in drawers in my room."

Hohenheim opened his mouth, but then looked at Edward and appeared to reconsider saying whatever he'd been going to say. He gazed at Edward for several seconds, then moved his right hand, and then sighed.

"When I've retrieved the photo, I'll take a different route away from Pinako's house so we don't see each other again." Edward didn't feel like doing so, but purposefully sighed in relief. "Be well, Edward." Then Hohenheim turned and walked down the dirt path in the direction of the Rockbell residence.

Edward walked over to the fence separating the cemetery from the path and leaned against it. He still wanted to collapse to his knees, but Hohenheim might look back in this direction. So he remained leaning against it, fighting to breathe with lungs that didn't want to work.

"What is it, Ed?" Granny questioned.

He didn't answer, though.

He was so terrified transcending encompassment he felt dizzy, and he was afraid he was going to faint. If he discovered Hohenheim hadn't been lying and was right, he wouldn't exist anymore. His body and mind and soul would still be here, but everything that was Edward Elric would cease to be as completely as Al–

His mind ceased processing thought, and then resumed.

He took another deep breath. There was absolutely no way he _wasn't_ going to do this, however. He needed to know if Al was still alive more than he'd needed anything before in his life.

At the edges of his mind he was aware, if Hohenheim turned out to have been honest and correct, this would mean he hadn't murdered Mom, but he couldn't care about that at all now.

Edward opened his mouth, but he couldn't form words. He tried several more times before he was able to. "I don't want to talk about it," he responded.

"However, I have a request to make of you. After you've talked to Aunt Sarah and Uncle Yuriy, can we please get digging equipment and measuring tools from your house? We've got to dig up whatever it was… Al and I transmuted."

.

Julia looked up from where she was sitting on the couch at the sound of Al's footsteps walking into the living room. He walked over and sat on the couch next to her.

"How'd it go?" Julia asked.

"The same as every other time," Al replied. "Winry didn't answer the door, or say anything through it. I told her if she let me bring her lunch in this time," they'd been leaving her food and drink on the table outside the door of her room for her to retrieve when they weren't there, "without speaking to her, so I could see her and gain what knowledge I could about how she was from that, I wouldn't come back for the rest of the day, but even that didn't work."

"You'll think of something," Julia forced herself to smile encouragingly. "I'm certain you don't believe that, or what I'm about to say, but you need to hear it. What happened to Winry and Pinako and Hawkeye and Mustang is no evidence you're incapable of supporting other people. You're more sensitive to how others feel than anyone else I've met in my life. There's no way someone like you, who understands others' pain so well, won't be able to think of something in time. I have faith in you."

Al looked down. "Thanks," he said. "But you overestimate me. I'm not sensitive."

Julia sighed. "Unintentionally killing someone because you were on a selfish quest when you had no idea that would happen, or telling this Doctor Marcoh about Winry when you had no idea it would cause her any problems, isn't the same thing as willingly doing something you know might result in death or hardship for another. That you were blind and made a mistake doesn't make you the smallest bit less receptive of others."

"I _did_ know not accepting the truth could get someone killed, though," Al replied. "So I should have known our quest could kill someone. That we weren't aware means I'm not responsible enough, and that means I'm not as sensitive as you think; if I was, I'd have valued responsibility more. Additionally, we were inexperienced when we informed Doctor Marcoh about Winry. We were new to a world of plotting, so we should have been more careful. But we weren't, and this was also because I wasn't irresponsible enough."

"You didn't know for sure not accepting the truth could kill someone," Julia responded. "You knew there was a possibility, but there's a possibility _anything_ we do can end up killing another. You had no reason to believe there was a greater possibility not accepting the truth could kill someone than anything else could. Or has it happened before?"

Al didn't answer, and Julia's stomach heaved violently. Oh, no.

"It has?" she asked. "What happened?"

For several seconds Al was silent, but he apparently hadn't forgotten what she'd spoken in Milos about how she'd worry more if she didn't know what was wrong, for he replied, "A State Alchemist turned his daughter, a little girl called Nina who was a friend of ours, into a part-human, part-dog Chimera." Julia's eyes widened. "Brother and I took it badly, so, because we hadn't been accepting the truth about what the Fϋhrer had planned for Amestris, we didn't face the truth the military would turn her into a research specimen, and we didn't take her with us after the alchemist was arrested. We did face that truth after we'd left, and returned for her, but it was too late. We returned in time to see Scar murder her.

"We murdered a little girl, but that didn't teach us not accepting the truth we belong in the bodies we have now for defying the flow of the world might also kill someone as not accepting the truth had killed Nina. I was hopelessly irresponsible. I'm a cowardly infant who gets upset when the world isn't the colorful crayon picture I drew even though I know I hurt others by getting upset. I was that way when I murdered Nina. I knew from our failed human transmutation of our mother not accepting the truth brings suffering, yet that wasn't enough to motivate me to make the responsible choice about Nina. That even after Nina I was _still_ irresponsible makes me such a selfish coward I might as well be an active mass murderer." Julia's eyes went wide. "Now do you see? I'm not receptive. I'm a whining, bratty infant."

She didn't. This no more changed who Al was than what he'd done to Hawkeye did.

From Al's willingness to let her hold his hands for emotional support the day she'd met him, she very highly doubted Al would be uncomfortable with this. She moved closer to him, reached out her arms, and tried to wrap them around the torso of his armor as best she could in a hug, but as she'd known he would, Al pulled away.

"You pulled back partially because you don't want me to be uncomfortable embracing a metal," she asked, "Hard-edged and sharp-edged, suit of armor, correct?"

"Yes," Al spoke. "Why?"

"Would a whining," she questioned, "Bratty child be that considerate, or accept someone else's comfort even though it would be a bother to the person offering it? You are sensitive. _Extremely_ sensitive. You're suffering so horrifically you must be desperate beyond description for any type of support, even if it doesn't comfort you at all, but you're so receptive of the desires and pains of others you put my welfare before your own even though you feel that way, even when it came to something as minor as the slight physical discomfort I'd experience by holding a suit of armor."

Al's eyes widened, and Julia held her breath.

After a few seconds he replied, relief she couldn't fathom in his voice, "That's true." Tears brimmed in her eyes. She'd reached him. She'd done something for him, and something that wasn't inconsequential. She wasn't helpless for all intents and purposes.

Al jolted, but then he must have realized they were partially tears of relief.

"Thank you so much," he said. "I didn't think it was possible, but I can genuinely believe I can support Winry now. And Brother. I was going to keep trying, but I didn't know if I could believe I was capable of it. But now I can."

"You're welcome." Julia smiled, and she was surprised to find it wasn't completely fake. "You can save Winry. Even if you are irresponsible and childish – and I'm not agreeing you are – you're not a selfish brat. You experience others' pain on a level that's as wonderful as it is rare. A person like you could never fail to discover what will take her pain away."

"I believe you," Al replied. Then he sighed heavily and looked down again. "But that's not good enough. I shouldn't need to discover it. I should already _know_."

Julia understood how he felt. Those sensations were no different than her wish she had the Star in her hands this moment and could use it to solve everyone's – her people's, Al's, Ed's, Winry's, and the people in Amestris who were being herded to slaughter – problems without delay.

She didn't, though, so she'd have to be satisfied with convincing Al he could believe in his ability to take care of others.

She couldn't be, however. So long as people were in torture, she could never be satisfied.

.

Wrath suppressed the urge to snarl as he sat at the head of the table in the Central Command Center's senior meeting hall and listened to the Generals of High Command shout and yell at each other.

He'd believed he'd encounter nothing less. Father hadn't given these Generals chairs in High Command because they had the ability to rise to meet almost any challenge they were faced with, or because they had the ability to remain professional under pressure, or because they were admirably able to complement and supplement each others' skills, or because they were competent. Father had given these Generals chairs in High Command because they were ambitious and afraid of death and could be easily strung along.

However, with Cordelia dead, he had far less patience for their inability to act like true military chiefs of staff than he usually did. Cordelia's death didn't affect Father's plans at all, so he shouldn't be letting it bother him, but she was the woman he'd valued enough to choose to be his spouse. It would have been disloyal of him to value her more than Father and his siblings, or to want to be happy with her rather than obedient to his sire, but she'd still interested him and been important to him in a number of ways, and they'd been able to understand each other without words as a leader and his or her spouse should, so it felt wrong to brush her death off.

Additionally, although he didn't like acknowledging it because of what it implied, he didn't know if he could _stop_ it from bothering him. It hurt worse than any agony he'd experienced before in his life, even the pain he'd suffered when his human body and Father's Philosopher's Stone had battled each other for dominance and his body had been repeatedly deconstructed and reconstructed. It didn't make any sense for it to hurt this much – even if he _did_ love her, he'd accepted Father was going to transmute her into mindless energy before he'd married her, and there wasn't much difference between that and death – but it hurt this greatly nonetheless.

He had very little patience for High Command's incompetence right now.

"Never mind that!" brown-haired and mustached Lieutenant General Harris cried. "We need to find out how this Dante learned of our plans! It's possible Greed told her, but there may be other traitors in the military besides McDougal, Mustang, Elric, Hughes, and Armstrong! We need to know how Dante discovered what we're up to or we may end up leaving a leak open who could expose our goals to the general populace!"

This had gone on long enough.

"That's enough, gentlemen," Wrath interjected in a tone of calm command. "Attention."

The Generals spun to face him, assumed a military posture, and saluted him.

"There's most likely no need to be concerned about the populace being warned," Wrath spoke. "If Dante did discover our goals from a traitor in the military and the traitor wanted to expose us to the populace, he or she would have before Dante delivered us ultimatums. It would have been safer to then. If there is another traitor amongst us, we have no need to fear the people will learn we intend to devour them.

What he needed to say next would probably achieve little. The members of High Command were too petty, and lazy, and cowardly for him to be able to mold them into a staff of Generals who deserved their station. But Dante and her pure Homunculi were such a large threat he needed to _attempt_ to severely shape up High Command, even though Wrath would be assassinating all of them in weeks or months. He needed their assistance to hone the inexperienced Central soldiers into a fighting force worth reckoning with. "You should have realized that yourselves. You're the highest ranking military officers in Amestris. You should be able to know how our enemies think better than almost any other officer or soldier in this country. Additionally, you aspire to unify the world under your immortal leadership. How can you believe you'll be able to establish a glorious reign over the planet if you can't even contend well with Amestris' foes as it currently exists?"

Most of the Generals made assorted sounds. The black-haired and mustached Major General Follos looked indignant, but when he replied, he spoke with proper military deference and didn't raise his voice. "Why do you say that, sir? We crushed Ishval, we've won plenty of battles expanding our territory into Aerugo's lands and Creta's, and we've kept Drachma, Aerugo, and Creta from invading or regaining any of that territory for years. We can contend with Amestris' foes adeptly."

"The Eastern soldiers were primarily responsible for defeating Ishval," Wrath corrected them, "And it's the regional forces who have expanded our territory and protected it. You've made little real contributions to any of our victories." There were more sounds. "You've led the nation, and you're decent administrators, but you've accomplished little militarily through your own talents and skills. You're content to command safely behind enemy lines, and let others do the actual work of fighting our enemies, and this has prevented you from gaining the experience you need to function as admirable military commanders, so your leadership has rarely made a difference for the better in a confrontation. Nor do you cooperate well; you're interested in your own concerns first and foremost and working in concert second. All of this has to change, gentlemen. Dante is human, but she is a living Stone, and she commands at least two Homunculi who may or may not be living Stones themselves. I will do what I can to protect you from her as the Promised Day draws closer, and to lead our military in removing the danger she represents, but I can just do so much by myself. If you don't cease reclining in your armchairs and rise above your self-interest, and learn how to be genuine military commanders, in all likelihood none of you will live long enough for Father to transmute you portions of his Amestrian Philosopher's Stone to serve as your new bodies."

Gray-haired and white-haired, bearded, and mustached, dark-skinned Lieutenant General Raven laughed, but he sounded disturbed. "You underestimate yourself, Fϋhrer, sir. You were reared and born to guide Amestris to ultimate prosperity. All we need to do is follow your leadership as we have in the past, and you'll protect our future as you have since you ascended to your throne."

"You've lost your mind, Raven," Follos said, barely keeping his voice professional. "Dante is the _same as the one Wrath calls Father_. You know full well what that means."

"And her Homunculi might be the same too," the bald, glasses-wearing Brigadier General Jonesol spoke up, and his voice wasn't professional at all, even though he wasn't shouting or yelling. "If the Fϋhrer believes he can't protect us from her by himself, he can't protect us from her by himself. We have to do as he advises."

"Indeed," the blonde-haired Major General McKinley put in. "I'm going to contact General Hakuro at the Eastern Command Center. The Eastern forces are the most skilled and experienced troops in the country. He'll be able to instruct me in how to be a more effective commander, so I can live to gain my immortality and splendor."

"Do as you wish," gray-haired, mustached, and bearded Brigadier General Edison said back. "I, for one, will continue to believe in the Fϋhrer."

"You misunderstand me," Wrath cut in. "This is not advice. This is a direct order. All of you are to contact every General in the regional Command Centers and the military bases on the borders save for Armstrong and Grumman, and command them to write you lessons on military strategy, tactics, how to think like your enemy, how to effectively prepare your subordinates for combat, et cetera. You are to study these lessons thoroughly and ask questions of the Generals by phone until the Generals personally tell me they would feel comfortable turning over their positions to you. Further, you are to distribute copies of these lessons to all soldiers in Central and use what you've learned from the lessons to assist me in developing a much harsher training regimen for Central's troops, one every soldier, whether he or she has completed his or her training or not, will be required to undertake. Before another month passes I don't want a single Central soldier still resting in luxury away from the battlefield. Dante has delivered her ultimatum. We don't know how she will strike at you, if she intends to put anything in place here to enable her to do whatever she needs to in order to acquire Father's network, but Central is now the battlefield, and we must prepare ourselves to fight back as though we were a fort on the borders of one of our neighbors. Am I understood?"

A number of the Generals made sounds of discontent, or worse, but they all saluted him. "Yes, sir!" the black-haired and gray-haired, glasses-wearing Lieutenant General Gardner cried.

Wrath doubted the Generals of High Command possessed the motivation to learn as much from the military commanders outside Central as they could, but the lower-ranking officers and soldiers of the Central Command Center and Central were a different matter. They were used to a life of ease away from combat, but the majority of them weren't the idiots High Command was. The lower-ranking troops would learn, and Wrath would have better forces at his disposal to defend Jackson, Brigadier General Hendrick, the current High Command, and the interim High Command he would replace them with against Dante, as well as to keep Dante from setting up any measures for obtaining Father's underground Stone here, while other human and non-human forces took the fight to Dante and neutralized her.

But would anything his family, their pawns, and the military could do to defend against and attack Dante and Father could do with his core body and greater body to counter Dante and her Homunculi if they were spotted in Central, be sufficient? Dante's abilities as a living Stone were more limited than Father's because she wasn't a Homunculus, but she was still a living Stone, and if her two or more Homunculi were, that meant they were capable of everything Father was, even though they didn't have Father's centuries of experience with a Stone body and that should prevent them from being his equals. As when Mustang had evacuated and burnt Liore, they were facing a true obstacle again, and one that was far greater. If Joshua had been lying about Dante's intentions, for the first time, their plans weren't just in danger of being delayed, but of being permanently halted.

It probably wasn't much of a danger. Dante had learned how to intentionally transmute pure Homunculi, but it was still likely her and her Homunculi didn't know a living Stone Homunculus could survive outside his or her flask of flesh. If she'd known, Joshua probably wouldn't have looked like a human boy. Dante had probably discovered a way a pure Homunculus could survive outside a flask of glass without becoming a living Stone, or discovered a way to transmute a living Stone without requiring hundreds of thousands of humans as the ingredients. In addition, if Dante's children had escaped their glass flasks without becoming living Stones, Wrath extremely highly doubted there was any way for them to live outside flasks. These things meant it was likely all of her Homunculi would die if their flasks of flesh were broken, and none of them could form greater bodies, so Father likely still had the advantage.

But it was a true danger nonetheless, and for the first time in years, Wrath knew uncertainty in ways he'd never believed he'd experience it again.

There was no inexplicable interest at the threat Dante was and what that threat had resulted in, though. Dante wasn't a regular human, and her servants were Homunculi. All there was was the need to render her and Wrath's Homunculi relatives no danger to them.

What there was was a far more inexplicable disappointment. He didn't know why, but for whatever reason, he found himself wishing it was the Freezer, Mustang, the Elric brothers, the Armstrongs, and their allies who had become this much of a threat, and not one or more other living Stones, even though it meant Wrath wished humans had become enough of a danger they might be able to prevent Father from attaining his desire.

Wrath had to keep his eye from widening.

He was looking forward to discovering what the Elrics' next move was, now that they'd slipped their leash.

Something ached, and it took Wrath several seconds to become aware what it was.

He wished he could wordlessly communicate he possessed these feelings to, or talk about these feelings with, Cordelia.

He ignored that ache and wish, however. Whether he loved Cordelia or not, his loyalty to Father was more important than anything else.

"It's good to hear that," Wrath responded. "I'll assign large complements of soldiers to guard all of you whenever you're in a public location, and my leftovers to guard you when you're at home in your residences. That said, this meeting is adjourned. I want you to start learning how to think and lead like true officers, and I want our subordinates to begin learning how to perform their duties like true officers and soldiers, right away."

.

Edward crested the hill his former house stood atop, a shovel slung over his left shoulder, Granny carrying two buckets, one filled with water, one with measuring equipment inside it.

 _Al's garments and shoes lay empty he was gone_

Ed shoved the real vision away. He didn't need to to keep from collapsing now, but he had incomparably more important things to worry about.

By now he was so hysterical with terror surmounting thought there wasn't any way at all his mind could take in in any sense the possibility Hohenheim had spoken of, and how large the chance was he was right if he hadn't lied, even keeping himself from thinking of what that possibility meant. He wasn't hurrying, though. Hurrying would make it harder for him to dig with his elbow not working. Nor was his terror surpassing words slowing his movements in any way. There was no way he couldn't dig up the life he and Al had formed.

"Where is the life form?" he asked.

 _Mom was darker than the most lightness abyss boundlessly more pitch black than the void as horrible transcending thought as an infinite nightmare_

"Where did you bury the life form?"

Granny looked at him very worriedly, but as she had every time she'd done anything of the type since she'd questioned him what was wrong, she didn't ask what was wrong again. She responded, "Follow me."

She led him around the ruins of the house to what had once been their backyard and pointed at an area of it. "It's around here."

Ed didn't respond, verbally or nonverbally. He just staggered forward to that place and planted his shovel in the ground. He dug it into the ground, then pressed his upper automail arm against the bottom of the handle, getting awkward leverage on it, and lifted a clump of dirt out of the ground.

 _It was all gone now he'd totally destroyed everything everyone he loved most now_

He ignored the vivid memory and dropped the dirt to the side. It was nowhere near as important now.

 _Blinding pain from the stump where his left leg had been consumed and wiped out all reality_

Ed ignored the memory and dug into the ground with the shovel again.

 _Mom was blacker than the most pitch black abyss boundlessly darker than the void Al's clothes and shoes were empty_

Ed pushed the vivid vision away and regained his awkward leverage on the handle, lifting another clump of dirt out of the hole.

 _Blinding agony from the bleeding stump that had been his left leg wiped out everything_

He dropped the clump of dirt and, now that he could afford to, he tried to lose himself in the repetitive, mind-numbing motions of the digging. Al's empty shoes and garb and Mom's black and deformed form struggling to lift an arm and retching blood and the emotional anguish that defied names and the all-consuming physical anguish from the stump of his left leg kept replacing reality, but he willingly lost himself in those visions and memories. He couldn't run away any more, but his mind was incapable of processing this Truth. If he didn't occupy his mind with other things it might not be able to go on much longer without fainting, and he couldn't let that happen. He _had_ to know if Al was still alive as soon as he could. _Nothing_ was more important.

He stuck his shovel into the ground, lifted it with his left hand and upper right arm, and discarded the dirt in the growing piles to the side. He stuck his shovel into the ground, lifted it with his left hand and upper right arm, and dropped the dirt in the growing piles to the side. He stuck his shovel into the ground, lifted it with his left hand and upper right arm, and discarded the dirt in the growing piles to the side. He stuck his shovel into the ground, lifted it with his left hand and upper right arm, and discarded the dirt in the growing piles to the side. That, the terror transcending encompassment, the memories, and the knowledge on the barest edges of his perception Granny was tearing grass out of the ground to make it easier for him to dig up the area, and from time to time looking at him in concern, were all that existed. There was nothing else. Not the emptiness in the stomach that had ejected its contents and he hadn't refilled, not the need to return to Winry and ensure she was safe in Carvar, not the knowledge he and Al couldn't get their bodies back, not his awareness once they returned to Carvar he'd be infiltrating the base of the one called Father and searching for evidence that would expose the Fϋhrer and High Command to the military at large, nothing.

His shovel went into the ground and was lifted out with a pile of dirt he dropped to the side.

His shovel went into the ground and Granny tore grass out of it.

His shovel went into the ground and was lifted out with a pile of dirt he discarded to the side.

His shovel went into the ground and Granny tore grass out of it.

There was the sound of the shovel striking something hard, and reality returned.

Edward was now shaking so violently he could barely hold the shovel. But he didn't let that stop him. He dropped the shovel into the now large hole, fell to his knees inside it, and dug through the dirt until he touched something that felt like a gathering of hair. He pulled it out from the dirt and something within him broke.

It was black.

He couldn't breathe, his heart was pounding so hard and rapidly it should have shattered his ribcage and broken out of his body, and everything came distorted from infinitely far away and as if happening to someone else, but at the same time he was more deliriously sharply aware of what was going on around him than he'd been before at any time he could remember. His eyes blurred with tears and his face became wet with them.

No.

Please, _this time he had to be dreaming or hallucinating!_

But he knew he could _never_ be dreaming or hallucinating when it was about whether or not Al was alive.

He didn't know for sure, though. Dirt was stuck to the gathering of hair, and it could be so dirty it appeared darker than it really was.

Edward climbed out of the hole and ran over to the bucket filled with water, desperately indefinably hoping beyond hope. He plunged the gathering of hair into the bucket and moved his hand back and forth, washing the dirt off of it, then pulled it out.

The hair was as black as it had been when he'd unearthed it. It hadn't looked black because it was dirty.

He was imagining everything, and everything was more real than it had been before at any time in his life.

He looked up at Granny, and his mouth refused to form words. He moved it and moved it, but he couldn't speak. He was determined not to run away again, and to face the truth, but his mind wouldn't let him. Not when that truth was almost certainly that Al was dead.

Al was almost certainly dead.

Ed couldn't _not_ think it now.

He _had_ to talk to Granny. It was the only way he'd be able to find out he was wrong.

"Granny," he was imagining his voice, but it was like he was screaming as loud as he could. "Mom's hair was a chestnut brown. And this is black."

Granny walked over to the other bucket and took out a roll of measuring tape. "Let's uncover the rest of the corpse."

Minutes later, they had a complete, relatively clean skeleton and wet, relatively clean locks of hair arranged on the ground before them, and he was imagining and it was being scoured into the deepest reaches of his mind Granny was kneeling next to one of the bones, the measuring tape partially unraveled and stretched out beside it.

"This shin bone is too long," he imagined Granny screaming, and he imagined his legs hadhe knew beyond all doubt his legs had given out beneath him for he was on his knees. He didn't feel cold, but he was shivering so hard it was like he was naked in the middle of the fiercest blizzard the weather in the north could spawn in winter.

Granny gave him an extremely worried look, but she got up, walked over to the back part of the skull, that was separate from the front part, and picked it up, turning it over and examining it. "And this skull is too small. Hohenheim was right. This isn't Trisha."

He giggled.

Granny's eyes widened, and she dropped the back of the skull. "Ed! What is wrong with you!?"

He couldn't answer. All he could do was clutch his stomach with his left hand and double over, collapsing into uncontrollable howling laughter. All the years he'd hated himself for imprisoning Al in the suit of armor, all the years Edward had felt utterly helpless to do anything to make Al's suffering less painful, all the years he'd been inexpressibly terrified Alphonse hated him for costing Alphonse his body and mind and trapping him in the armor, all the years Edward had run away from the truth because he couldn't take his awareness of the life Alphonse was living, all the years of everything else Edward had experienced and put himself through all the while knowing no amount of anguish and sacrifice could be the remotest amount close to being even the most infinitesimal thread of enough to make up for what he was forcing his brother to endure, and _it hadn't even been Al!_ The person in the armor was someone else, a Homunculus born from the Truth. The real Alphonse Elric had died when the Truth had erased him for assisting Ed in sinning against the circulation of the universe.

He'd feared he was going to fail to save from a Stone or the Portal, was going to lose to a Stone, and was incapable of taking care of, a brother who no longer existed!

Edward howled and screamed and gasped his laughter, tears streaming down his face, stomach spasming and spasming and spasming and spasming, and he was certain he'd never be able to stop laughing forever. It didn't matter they couldn't get their bodies back, there was no Al to return to his body to begin with! _Al was dead!_

And Ed was the one who had killed him, by convincing him to perform human transmutation. Al was dead because Edward had murdered him.

Blackness rose up around him and he fell into it.

.

"I just tore away half of my body with my own two hands! The me you see… isn't me anymore!"-Rubedo

XENOSAGA: Episode 2:

JENSEITS VON GUT UND BÖSE


	16. False Brothers

.

 **CHAPTER 16:**

 **FALSE BROTHERS**

.

 _Edward stood on an unseen surface, endless white stretching out into the distance in all directions. Before him hovered a closed stone double doorway with a carving of a Sefirotic Tree engraved upon it, and a white figure his size and height with insubstantial black that looked like fuzz enshrouding it and rising into the air stood in front of and to the left of the doorway, relative to facing it. The figure was featureless save for a human left leg and right arm, limbs it had stolen from Edward, and an open, grinning mouth with large teeth._

 _"Give him back!" Ed screamed, tears obscuring his vision so badly he could barely see, fury and hatred he'd never known it was possible for a human to feel consuming him wholly. "This is my fault! I'm the one who came up with the idea of performing human transmutation! I'm the one who involved Al in my attempt to defy the flow of the world! I'm the monster! I'm the sinner who alters people's lives as though they were laboratory specimens! You should have taken_ me _, not_ him! _"_

 _Truth chuckled. "I can't. Nothing humans possess or can acquire is equal to the value of a human soul. It's impossible for a human to make an Equivalent Exchange for another human. Artificial humans, yes. They don't have fully human bodies, minds, and souls, because they were born from the Truth. But humans born from a woman's womb are priceless. There's nothing a human can sacrifice that is worth enough I can restore the dead. You're not Gods. You're not even remotely akin to Gods. To think you can pull a soul back to the realm of the living is supreme arrogance._

 _"Besides, do you really want him back? You murdered him. He hates you more than anyone or anything else in existence." Ed started shaking, so violently he was certain he was going to fall to pieces, and the tears came harder. "If I gave him back he'd tear off your two remaining limbs."_

 _Then all of Truth was Alphonse's body as Edward had last seen him the night of the human transmutation, body not breathing, eyes lifeless and unseeing and crying tears of blood, and he seized Edward's left arm and ripped it off and blinding pain wiped out everything, then he grabbed Edward's right leg and ripped it off and Edward crashed to the unseen ground. Then Al had a serrated knife in his left hand and stabbed it into Ed's chest, and slowly peeled off the flesh there with exquisite care, sending all-consuming, excruciating agony throughout Edward and twisting the knife as he did, making the pain even more agonizing and excruciating._

" _Then I'll peel off every layer of your skin," Al said, "Slowly and carefully and as painfully as possible..." The knife serrated knife kept peeling and twisting, and the excruciating anguish wiped out reality wiped out all of Edward wiped out thought wiped out existence but none of it could even start the most infinitesimal amount to begin to lift the barest flicker of a candle to the agony defying expression in his being itself._

 _"And when I'm done I'll cut out your eyes as slowly and exquisitely carefully," each word was anguish nothing could encompass, shattering more and more of Ed into pieces that were so innumerable and so small they could have been grains of sand, pieces that flew away an infinite distance from each other into the void, "Then cut off your ears the same way, then cut off your nose the same way, and then your tongue. Then I'll slowly and exquisitely carefully crush every bone in your body to powder. Then I'll squeeze your lungs until they break. And then I'll leave you there as a ruined wreck of a human to die asphyxiating in your blood with your entire existence pain, for I hate you too much to even grant you the miniscule mercy of finishing you off quickly. I loved you more than anything, trusted you completely, believed in you without reservation, and was devoted to you unconditionally, and you betrayed me and murdered me!_ Nothing _can define how much I hate you now!_

 _"Why do you want me back, you revolting piece of filth?"_

 _"Because you're my brother!" Edward cried, barely aware of the pain from Alphonse carving up his skin, barely aware of anything but Al before him, unbreathing and unseeing and crying tears of blood and now Al's body was rotting and tatters of flesh were falling to dangle off of it all over his body and blood was pouring out of the openings they left behind through which Ed could see muscle and bone and the muscle and bone were falling off and Al's eyes and ears and tongue were falling out and his face and hair were falling off revealing his skull and brain matter decaying and falling apart and still he was crying blood out of the decaying and falling apart eye sockets in his skull. The sights were so horrible surpassing thought Edward couldn't feel anything now. "I don't care if you hate me! I don't care if you want to kill me! I don't care if you want me to be in the worst agony possible every second beyond the end of time! I don't care if you wish you could keep me in that agony and kill me and resurrect me to kill me again for that forever! I don't care about anything other than knowing you're alive and happy! Please, come back! I'll give the Truth anything!"_

 _"Such a poor," Al sounded derisively sympathetic, "Deluded spirit. You still don't understand? No matter what you give, it will never be enough. You can't save me. You never could have saved me. There hasn't been a single instant you've been able to care for me your whole life. You've never been able to do anything for me and everything you've done, every breath you've taken from the moment I was conceived, has hurt me. You've never been anything more than a chain wrapped around me and strangling all vitality out of me. You've been a burden dragging me down all my life. But still, like a fool, I loved you and trusted you and looked up to you and wanted you to take care of me. Well, I know better now. I should have killed you when I was old enough to know how to hurt people, since you didn't have the decency to be stillborn so I_ would _have been an only child. Then I'd still be alive today._

 _"I hate you, Brother. And even if you hurt yourself or kill yourself because you murdered me, I'll still hate you every bit as much for all eternity."_

He was looking up at something blue with white in it.

He didn't know what it was. He didn't know anything other than Al's words and the serrated knife cutting through his flesh and twisting and the physical and emotional pain and the sight of Al's body rotting and his skin and muscle and bones and eyes falling off and his blood pouring out of the holes in his body and falling from his eyes and eye sockets and his skull and brain falling apart, and Edward didn't even know why he was aware of these things.

Time passed, but awareness of what was happening didn't come to him. He registered his body ached all over and there was wetness in his eyes, but he had no idea what the wetness was or why it was there.

He heard a familiar voice sigh in relief, but he couldn't place it.

"Thank goodness," the voice spoke. "What, precisely, is wrong? I know you went through something awful, but I have no way of figuring out what about your failed transmutation is hurting you."

His failed transmutation…? Which one would that be?

Then it returned to Edward.

He'd murdered Al.

Ed squeezed his eyes shut, letting his tears emerge into the space behind his eyelids and fall out from under them, desperately inexpressibly hoping he would fall into oblivion again if he kept his eyes closed and this time he wouldn't wake up. He didn't care falling unconscious almost certainly meant he'd experience another nightmare surmounting the word like the one he'd just had; he craved it like a drug he was addicted to. He deserved it, and infinitely worse, and there was no reason not to run away now.

But he remained aware of the grass beneath him and the warmth of the Sun.

He kept his eyes closed, though. There was no reason to open them, assuming he was capable of the most infinitesimal purposeful movement. There was no reason to do anything. Nothing mattered any more when Al was dead, at Edward's hands. Edward _was_ nothing, and not even that. With half of his body wholly and permanently severed from him Ed was now entirely a boundless void lacking even emptiness so fully it couldn't even lack. There wasn't even a shell of Edward who would have felt more complete if things were different. He was a nothingness that wasn't even nothing, that couldn't even not have nothing.

And there was no Al to take care of, so doing anything was pointless.

He'd lie here until he died of dehydration. There was no point doing that, because there was nothing in all existence that could even begin to make up for what he'd done the most infinitesimal amount of a candle that wasn't flickering at all, so there was no point transmuting a blade out of his automail arm and cutting his throat, even though he wanted to die so desperately he wanted to grovel and beg for someone to kill him. But there was no point doing anything else, and he was desperate to escape from the knowledge Al was dead and Ed had murdered him, so he'd lie here and die.

"Ed?" Granny asked. "I'm not dropping it. What's wrong?"

Ed ignored her, though. He kept his eyes closed and lay there.

But after an unknown amount of time had passed, something so faint he was certain he was imagining it tried to move into his thoughts.

So he didn't push it away, and it grew until he wasn't sure he was imagining it.

So he pushed it away. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

"What do you think you're doing, Ed!?" Granny's voice was angry now. "I thought you learned not to run away! You know it's wrong to do nothing because something is painful!"

So? That also didn't matter an–

Blood and tatters of flesh erupted out of the back of Nina's head in crackling blue.

"Why are you doing this again!?"

Ed didn't want to move again for the rest of his life. Al was dead, and at Ed's hands. His brother would never smile or laugh or feel or sleep or cry or warm himself by the fire or study alchemy or run under Resembool's cerulean skies again. He'd never had a _chance_ to feel or cry or sleep or warm himself by the fire again. And it was all Edward's fault. _He'd_ forever robbed Al of the ability to do or experience any of these things. He didn't want to move, he wanted to die, and he didn't deserve to move, or anything at all.

But this was what had been trying to move into his thoughts. In addition, it did matter. If he did nothing as he had when Nina and Alexander had been fused into a Chimera, he might purposefully let someone die again. He might purposefully let _Winry_ die. Even now, he still couldn't do nothing again.

So he had to move, and he was aware he could move. He didn't want to move, all he genuinely wanted was to die, and he knew for certain this time he no longer had legs. But he still had to move. He had no choice.

He had to keep battling for Amestris, even though it was now a complete certainty he couldn't save it. Someone who had murdered his or her brother, and the person who had loved him or her the most and he or she had loved the most, could never save or take care of anyone. He hadn't killed Mom, but that meant nothing when he _had_ murdered his brother. Unless others prevented it from happening, Winry was going to become part of a Philosopher's Stone. Unless others prevented it from happening, everyone inside Amestris was going to become part of a Philosopher's Stone. Unless others saved Amestris, it was inevitable.

Further, it was completely crazy for someone who had murdered his or her brother and the person who had loved him or her more than anybody or anything else and he or she had loved more than anybody or anything else to fight to prevent anyone from dying, or refuse to kill anybody else.

But he couldn't do nothing, and he still had his morals, so he still had to attempt to stop those things from happening, as absolutely certain as it was he'd fail. He still had to refrain from killing anyone else. He still had to not run away. He couldn't die until Winry and Amestris were safe, unless his death was what rescued them. He'd attempt to discover a way he could kill himself in the process of saving them, but if he couldn't find a way to ensure his death would do so, he'd have to wait until they were safe, or he'd failed, to commit suicide.

He shouldn't get up at present, though. Al was dead. He should lie here and grieve for Al for a long time before he did anything else. If Edward did anything else before he did, that would be shrugging his brother's death off. That would be shrugging off Edward's murder of Al as though it had no value.

But Ed had no choice in this as well. His stomach spasmed and spasmed at the thoughts, trying to throw up, and he hated the concept of getting up and returning to what he needed to do before he'd grieved for a long time as much as he now hated himself. But he could never do nothing again. If he didn't get up, he might cause another Nina. In addition, now that he was aware there _were_ things that mattered, after defying Equivalent Exchange had killed Al, Edward couldn't take the concept of not putting in the hard work he should be to live in reality for any reason. If he didn't, he'd repeat the mistakes that had murdered Al. Not repeating those mistakes wouldn't come any closer to atoning for killing Al than committing suicide or anything else would, but he _couldn't_ make them again. _Nothing_ could stop Edward from working his hardest now.

It was inexpressibly apathetic, and treated his brother's murder and death as though they meant nothing, but Edward had to experience even his early grief in the process of walking, and assisting Granny in gathering the Rockbells' belongings, and traveling.

He wasn't going to lie down and wait to die once he'd saved Winry and Amestris or failed. He was going to actively kill himself in the most painful way he could think of.

It felt like it was incomparably the hardest thing he'd done in his whole life to do it, but he opened his eyes.

Opening his eyes caused them to tear up so much he was barely able to see through his tears, and when he opened his mouth to tell Granny what was wrong, once again no words would come out. He didn't repeatedly attempt to form words this time. He waited for a long time, then opened his mouth again.

"Al," his voice was a croak. "It's Al. If this isn't Mom, that means I didn't save Al when he was taken." Granny's eyes flew wide, and tears brimmed in them. "I murdered Al, Granny."

Granny's expression became understanding. "I see," she spoke. "In that case, go ahead and lay there. I'm sorry for my words. I should have known you weren't running away again. Rest and grieve as long as you want to. We'll go back when you're capable of it."

"I'm capable of it now," Edward replied. "So I can't rest. We've got to retrieve the screw and the belongings from your house right away." He wished they could make a real grave for the life form he'd transmuted, but the later he infiltrated the complex of the one called Father, the closer to the solar eclipse the State Alchemists might learn enough alkahestry. "You were correct the first time. I _was_ running away from the Truth again." Whatever Granny felt at hearing this didn't show in her eyes or face. "If I rested, I'd be doing the same thing. And I can't give up now and do nothing. You're right. I know it's wrong. If I do nothing, I may murder another Nina.

"And I'll be doing the same thing that killed Al."

He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his left hand, but he didn't rub away his tears or fight back against them. He barely cared about it, but he still needed to be strong and tough to walk even though he had no legs to walk on. However, the concept of not crying because Alphonse was dead, and at Edward's hands, was so wrong nothing could convey how indefinably abominable it was. He blinked until his vision was clearer, but that was all he did.

"Are you sure?" Granny questioned, an uncountable number of emotions in her voice and face.

Tears obscured his vision so greatly he could barely see again. "Yes," he answered.

.

Winry shouldn't have been in the same house Al was residing in, and Ed was going to be staying in, even locking herself in her room almost all the time so she rarely saw Al. She had to. There was nowhere else she could stay in Carvar, and she couldn't leave the town or sleep on the streets, as much as she wanted to flee as far away from where Al was and Ed was going to be as possible. If she wasn't in a building, she'd have a greater chance of being recaptured, and if she was, she'd put Ed and Al in even more danger than she was putting them in by residing in this house.

She still shouldn't be here, though. Every second she was in this house she was a threat to their lives. If the military found her here and attacked, she might do something stupid that would cause Al's blood seal to be destroyed as he protected her, or that would result in Ed being shot. Or she might stupidly believe she should fight with a weapon herself, attack the people who were trying to recapture her, and accidentally kill one or both of the brothers herself.

But there was nothing she could do about it if she couldn't persuade Ed and Al to go somewhere far away from her, and after Al was still trying to convince her to let him into her room even though it had been sixteen days since the night she'd cried at them to leave her and she'd tried her hardest during all those days to push them away, she was losing hope she'd be able to. There might be no way she could protect Ed and Al from herself short of killing herself once she fixed Ed's elbow, and she knew that wasn't the answer. After she installed the missing screw in Ed's elbow all she might be able to do was keep residing here, and hope desperately the brothers would be too busy fighting to save Amestris to spend much time in Carvar.

But, as she lay on her bed with the door to her room locked and her head buried in her pillow, tears in her eyes and falling down her face, she knew that wouldn't be good enough. Because she couldn't believe with reasonable confidence she wouldn't kill Ed or Al, or both of them, whenever they _did_ spend time here.

Not that it would be good enough if she could. _Nothing_ she said or did for the rest of her life would be the most infinitesimal bit good enough. She'd almost killed Ed through her incompetence. Nothing could make up for that.

Even so, she had to keep trying her hardest to persuade Al to stop worrying about her, and for he and Ed to forget she existed and never to return here or come near her again anywhere else for the rest of their lives once he and Ed left. It was the sole way she could protect them now at all. Her well-being didn't matter. It never should have. Al was wrong. There _was_ a reason she shouldn't have wanted to be part of their lives. The reason was it didn't make a difference how she felt, or whether she was physically okay, or whether she was mentally all right, or even whether she was alive, because Ed and Al needed to be supported and protected. There had to be a way a way to get them to realize that. There had to be a way for her to persuade them not to care about her, and to just save themselves? It wasn't right _they_ were the ones who were compassionate and self-sacrificial. She didn't need to be taken care of, and protected. They did.

Once she installed Ed's screw, she had to do it somehow. It didn't matter how hopeless it was appearing, she couldn't fail in this as she'd failed them in every other way. She'd chained them by being held captive as leverage against them, she stained them with the same blood that now covered every millimeter of her hands by being around them, and she was a fatal danger to them. Furthermore, even if they were able to restore their bodies to each other with her strangling the life and goodness out of them and threatening to kill them, there was no guarantee she wouldn't kill them _after_ they got their bodies back. It was very likely they'd regain their bodies and return to her to disturb her in the middle of her practicing shooting so she could become a better killer, and she'd whirl on them as they ran to her with reflexes honed to murder and gun them down. She had nightmares of doing so almost every night among her other beyond nightmares, and she knew those nightmares could very likely come true.

She had to reach them. She had to protect them. Please, there had to be a way for her to protect them.

 _Spare me. There is no way and you know it. You've never been able to protect them before, and you've always been a deadly danger to them. It's been that way as long as you've been alive. So what makes you think you have the most threadbare chance of changing that now? You're accomplishing the very thing you want to prevent. There's no way to keep them safe from yourself, and the harder you try, the more of a threat you'll be to them. That's how it's been until now. You've tried hard to protect Ed and because of that you almost murdered him. Keep this up and it will happen again. And this time maybe Ed or Al_ will _die._

 _Stop talking to them at all once you've installed the screw. It won't achieve anything, but at least if you don't try there's less of a chance you'll murder them by attempting to keep them safe._

Maybe that was right. Maybe that _was_ what she should do.

Yes. That was best. That was what she had to do. After she fixed Ed's elbow, she'd never say another word to either of them. She'd remove herself from their lives completely. Then maybe, just maybe, she could protect them as opposed to mortally endangering them.

The tears came harder, and she wanted to retch at her selfishness. It didn't matter if they never spoke again! She didn't want them to be with her! She wanted them to be happy in their bodies and never get hurt or be in any danger again!

Someone knocked at her door, and she sighed.

"Winry." She sighed again in relief. It was Sheska's voice. "It's Sheska. I got a call from Private Gectraf. Edward and Pinako have returned to Carvar and are headed this way."

Her body hurt so much Winry didn't want to move, but she shifted her aching arms and pushed herself into a sitting position. She needed to meet Ed when he arrived. The sooner she installed the screw, the sooner she could fully get out of their lives.

"In that case," Winry called through the door, "I'm coming out."

.

Winry waited on the cobblestone street at the front of the yard, empty save for the three of them, looking down it. Thankfully, Al was standing a decent distance away from her, Julia at his side.

The familiar figures of Granny and Ed crested the hill, wearing faded white rags with their hoods down and each carrying one suitcase, and Winry sagged. They were all right.

When they became nearer, though, Winry became aware something new was wrong. Ed was walking as though it was a mammoth effort to make each step, as though he was barely capable of keeping himself from collapsing onto the street and never moving again, and his hair wasn't in a braid and fell loosely down the back of his head.

Then he drew close enough for her to see his face, and Winry lost awareness of everything but the look on it in horror.

Even when he'd been in a wheelchair and looking out at reality through lifeless eyes he'd looked better than this. His eyes weren't lifeless now, but they were filled with a horror and an anguish and an utter despair and complete hopelessness that were so much more broken than his lifeless eyes had been and so fathomless she had a hard time believing the human psyche could contain them. They were also so red and puffy and bloodshot it was clear he'd been crying often, and the bags of flesh beneath them were so dark and large it was obvious he'd barely slept for days, if he'd slept at all.

"Brother!" Al cried in measureless shock and horror.

Ed recoiled violently, tears brimming in his eyes and falling down his face, and began shaking so hard it was as if he'd fall into shards.

Her heart stopped. Was something wrong with Al?

Something in her mind yelled at her not to do this, but Winry didn't care what it was. Tears in her own eyes and on her own face, she ran up to Ed, Al at her side, and wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him close. She could feel all the strength leaving him as she did, and he dropped the suitcase in his left hand and sagged against her.

"What happened now, Brother?" Al questioned.

She could feel Ed shift at that word, and she stroked the back of his hair.

Al walked to Ed's side and put his hand against Ed's cheek, and Ed jolted violently and pulled to the side so unsteadily he would have fallen if she hadn't tightened her grip. " _No!_ " he screamed. "Please, don't! It's wrong! You shouldn't be trying to comfort me! I'm sorry I have to tell you this, but you're not Alphonse Elric!"

Everything and every single drop of her blood became ice so freezing it burned, and reality vanished. Someone was gasping somewhere immeasurably distant, and it came distorted, but she was barely aware of it. Winry focused on the feel of Ed in her beyond extremely violently shaking arms and the knowledge of how much he and Al needed her, though, and it returned. With its return she remembered she was a deadly danger to Ed and Al, but that didn't matter now. All that mattered, all that _could_ matter, was the pain Ed and Al were in.

Not just Ed. Al, as well. The person in the armor _had_ to be Al. It didn't make sense it wasn't.

Al was shaking violently, and Julia was holding one of his hands tightly.

"What… what are you talking about?" Al asked.

"Granny and I dug up the life form that should have been my Mom," Al jolted violently, his shaking growing worse, and Winry winced at 'my,' "when we were in Resembool," Ed replied, sounding like he wanted to break down into his tears, "And we discovered the life form Al and I transmuted wasn't Mom."

Winry held Ed tighter and closer, as much to keep herself standing and anchored in reality as to offer comfort she now knew was even more useless than any automail she'd created for Ed. She knew why Ed was saying such insane things now.

Oh, skies, _no_.

Al crashed to his knees, shaking even harder. Julia was gripping his hand tighter.

"That doesn't mean this isn't Al!" Julia cried. She turned to Al. "You remember attempting human transmutation, correct?" Al nodded as if he was barely aware what was real, and was in a nightmare. "That means you remember things that happened to the Al who had a flesh-and-blood body! That means you _are_ Alphonse Elric!"

"How could he be?" Ed questioned. "You have no idea how much I want to believe that proves he's Al. But it doesn't. When I tried to transmute Al, I drew his blood seal with my blood, and that must have injected my memories of Al into the life form I actually did transmute. That's why he has memories of the life Al lived before I reconstructed this life form. Human transmutation on natural-born humans is impossible. If it was possible, the body Al and I transmuted when we tried to resurrect Mom would have been a warped version of our mother's. But it was a different body altogether, so that proves natural humans can't be transmuted. I must have created something from within the Truth when I attempted to transmute Al, as the one called Father was created. The person I thought was Al is a Homunculus, and the true Alphonse Elric has been dead for years.

"And–"

"It's _not_ your fault, Ed!" Winry cut him off, and took his cheeks in her hands, trying to still their beyond extremely violent shaking so she could hold his visage facing hers. She'd never forgotten how Ed had blamed himself for Al participating in their human transmutation, and for sealing Al in his armor body, and she knew for certain he now believed he'd murdered his brother. "Listen to me." She tried to keep her voice steady through her tears. She wanted to break down bawling uncontrollably and never stop, or pass out and sleep forever in a dream world where Al was alive, but she couldn't do any of those things. Ed had never needed her this much before, and now she was all he had left. It didn't matter how deadly a liability she was. It didn't matter how horrifically she'd failed him with her terrible work. It didn't matter that his current state was also her fault, because he'd never have returned to Resembool if she'd built his arm right. It didn't matter how stained her hands were. Nothing mattered now but giving him every last ounce of care she could, even though she knew none of it would do any good at all. "It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Al… loved… your mother as much as you did, and was just as desperate to feel her warmth again. If you hadn't come up with the idea of human transmutation he might have been the one to come up with it, and _he_ might have been the one who convinced _you_ to do it with him. Further, you didn't hold a knife to his neck and threaten him into participating. He chose to of his own free will, because he wanted to see his mother smile again as much as you did. Blaming yourself for him assisting you is as arrogant as you blaming yourself for me trying to stab Scar. You can't make other people's decisions for them. You can influence them, but in the end they and they alone are responsible for their choices. You were _never_ at fault for Al getting erased. You. _Did. Not. Kill. Him._ "

Ed's expression didn't grow any less tortured, though. She'd known her words would make no difference, but she still wanted to squeeze her eyes closed tightly in despair.

After several seconds, he responded, "It makes no difference he might have come up with the idea himself. That's not how it happened. I did come up with it, so I'm responsible. And please, don't tell me my inability to do anything but influence Al didn't make me culpable. I was his older brother. He relied on me to raise him in Mom's place; he had no one else to genuinely look to for guidance during those years. My influence over him was one of the primary things he looked to to shape his identity then. Little can be as culpable for what happened to him during that time period as me.

"I murdered Al."

Ed looked at Al – no, she forced herself to confront, at the person they'd _thought_ was Al for the majority of the last five years – and said, "That's another reason why you shouldn't support me. Wherever he is, I know beyond all doubt Al hates me now."

At the word 'hates,' Winry suppressed the urge to pull Ed's face to hers and cut him off this time by kissing him on the lips. She was willing to give him all the love she could, even if that meant changing their relationship from that of siblings to that of lovers, but she didn't trust herself. She wasn't stupid. She knew full well how easily the torment and grief she was experiencing as a result of having tried to kill Scar, having almost killed Ed, and the revelation Al was dead could be deceiving her into thinking she felt things she wasn't for reasons she didn't, and at present, with Ed in this much pain, she was no longer certain the love she felt for Ed was sisterly. She couldn't trust the love she felt for Ed had altered because of how terribly he was being tortured, though, and that it had altered, as unbalanced as she was. She might think she felt differently because she was desperate to receive that different type of love from Ed, to run into it as an escape from her agony that might comfort her, if what she would feel could be called 'comfort.'

Giving love was determined by choice, as much as one could feel the emotion; it didn't matter what a person felt or didn't feel. If Ed needed care a sister couldn't give him and only a lover could, she'd give him that care because she was choosing to do so, because he needed that love.

But those feelings existed, and they might be lies, and in her state she didn't trust her ability to tell she wasn't acting on them. And if those feelings were lies and she acted on them, and gave Ed romantic love because false feelings wanted her to, and not because she needed to take care of him, she'd be using him as a crutch, and taking love from him rather than giving it. She couldn't kiss him on the lips. She was going to have to lie in his bed with him tonight and hold him in her arms while he slept or was unable to sleep. There was no way she couldn't do that. But the necessity of doing it made her no less terrified of doing so, because she couldn't guarantee when she did it it wouldn't be to use him.

So she pulled his face closer and leaned her forehead against his.

"Can you honestly believe that, Ed?" she asked him. "You know Al. You know what family meant to him. Being a member of his family meant nothing less to him than 'I love you, wholly and unconditionally.' He could never hate you. You could have hated him yourself and fought with him most of his life and dropped the responsibility of taking care of him solely on Granny after your mother died and he still would have loved you with all his heart. That's the kind of person he was. You know that more than anyone."

"Being a member of his family didn't mean that person might kill him when he felt that way," Ed replied. "Yes, I honestly believe that." Winry did squeeze her eyes shut then, for a few seconds, and wailed. "He loved me with his entire being, and I betrayed him. There's absolutely no way he doesn't hate me for killing him."

He sighed heavily, and it was the sigh of someone so indescribably tired of everything within life all he or she wanted was to hurry up and get something over with so he or she could die. Winry lost the ability to breathe as she became aware that was precisely what Ed intended to do. He was going to battle High Command for the sake of the nation, even in this condition, and if he defeated them, then he was going to commit suicide.

Assuming he didn't find a way he could kill himself to save the country.

"But there's no point to arguing this," Ed said exhaustedly. "I have the screw. Could you please attach it as quickly as you can? Then I've got to call Teacher and tell her I'm set, and be on my way back to Central."

Minutes ago Winry would have been glad to hear those words. Now, they terrified her so much she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to breathe.

 _He's not going to be able to save Amestris the day he returns to Central. And if he was willing to kill himself without being sure the nation was safe he would have done it by now. You have at least a decent amount of time to save him. Calm down._

 _Take it steady. First things first._

She took a long, shuddering, deep breath.

"I'd rethink that," she advised Ed gently. "You're a colossal wreck, and you haven't slept well, if at all, for days. You're in no condition to be fighting anyone now. Whatever you were going to do with your former teacher, she can do it herself. You should stay here, and rest."

"I can't," Ed spoke. "The last time I did nothing, Nina died. I can never do that again. I haven't been able to sleep since I got to Resembool, but I'll have enough time to catch up on my sleep on the way to Central, and my need to be in better shape will ensure I do once I leave. In addition, I can battle well. If I couldn't keep my pain from interfering with my ability to do what I need to do in a combat situation, the torment I've been in because of, among other things, the body I thought Al had would have killed me years ago. I also fought effectively when I returned to the battlefield after visiting your house, and that was when I was feeling much worse because you were a prisoner than how bad you knew I was feeling the day I arrived. If I could be up to the task then, I can be up to the task now."

Winry wanted to argue he hadn't known Al was dead then, but she knew that argument didn't have good legs to stand on. If Ed had years of experience keeping his pain from interfering with his ability to put up a good fight, someone who had conquered automail surgery on two limbs at once and rehabilitation in approximately a year would probably be able to keep the loss of his brother from crippling his ability to battle effectively as well. She wanted to argue because she didn't want him to push himself this hard so soon after he'd discovered Al was dead, and because it would be able to comfort her if he was here where she could keep an eye on him. Furthermore, as irrational as it was, she wanted to be able to keep holding him, because while she was she'd be able to convince herself there was an infinitesimal chance it was doing _something_ for him, in a way, even though she knew there was no chance at all it could.

Additionally, now that she didn't want to remove herself from the brothers' lives, she would feel better if she knew Ed was here and safe. And she wanted Ed here for her sake, so she could use him as an escape.

But most of that was selfish and wrong, and she couldn't try to convince him not to push himself when, even if she could succeed, that would cause him to feel he was repeating the mistake he'd made that had killed Nina.

She couldn't argue with him about staying here.

 _Of course you can't. He's learned he's lost Al and he feels responsible for it and, after letting him down all your life and almost killing him, you think you can do something for him_ now _!? Have you lost every last amount of common sense you possess?_

"Please, Winry," her eyes widened as she became aware Ed was _pleading_ with her. "Don't threaten not to fix my elbow if I don't do what you believe I should this time. The concept of staying here and doing nothing, and not giving my best effort, after disregarding Equivalent Exchange murdered Al… I can't put into words how that would feel. You won't be supporting me if you don't fix my elbow. You'll be hurting me. Could you please fix it?"

Maybe it _was_ completely futile, but she had to attempt to do something whether it was crazy or not. If she didn't, Ed would kill himself. It didn't matter how insane it looked she could support Ed now, she had to give everything she had to try.

She removed her forehead from his, removed one hand from his cheek, and rubbed his back, and he looked away from her as soon as she released him. She pressed her cheek to the side of his face she wasn't touching. "I wasn't going to," she told him. "I see your point." He sighed, and it sounded no less exhausted than his words.

"But, Ed," she spoke. She extremely highly doubted he'd take her advice, but she had to say this. "If you're going to push yourself this hard, don't push yourself _too_ hard, all right? You discovered Al is dead, and you're not even taking a day to rest from your travels before heading off again. Things are different now. I know you're strong, but even you can't strain yourself like that and keep moving if you push yourself too much harder."

"I'll keep your advice in mind," he replied.

Then she felt him cringe, and moved the hand still on his cheek to his back again, holding him tight and close once more. He looked at the artificial human they'd thought was Al for so long, who was now kneeling, his shaking no weaker, with Julia at his side, still gripping his hand tightly.

"I'm sorry," Ed's voice broke. "For treating you as someone you weren't all this time. For causing you to believe you were a person you never were. For tricking you into assuming a life that never should have been forced upon you. For deceiving you into hoping you could have a human body. If you hate me now, I don't mind. If there's anything you want me to do for you to enable you to find your legs in this world, I'll do it, save for using a Philosopher's Stone. But if you yourself want to retrieve a Philosopher's Stone so you can try to give yourself a body that isn't trapped in your flask of armor, I won't stop you, so long as you just go after one or more Stones that already exist and don't try to transmute a new one, regular or special."

The Homunculus looked back at them wordlessly for several seconds. Then his shaking began subsiding and he responded, terror and torture in his voice so great Winry knew his voice wasn't able to begin to communicate his emotions, but his tone calmer and more aware of reality than Winry had believed it would be, "I don't hate you, Br… Ed. You didn't know any better. Is there anything I want you to do for me? I don't know, and even if there was, I wouldn't ask you for it. I can't request anything of you so soon after you've learned the real Alphonse is dead."

Julia's eyes flew wide, and she gazed at the Homunculus, stunned. Winry understood why. This wasn't Al, but if Winry had had any doubts the heart of the person in the armor was every bit as open as Al's had been, this would have erased it. She hadn't believed even Al was _this_ selfless. The Homunculus had just learned his whole life, much of his past, all his dreams for the future, and his humanity itself, were lies and the brother he'd loved more than anyone or anything wasn't genuinely his brother, yet even _now_ , as much as he must want to put himself first, he was more concerned for others than himself. The person in the suit of armor wasn't Al, but Winry was now indescribably thankful she'd met him.

"I'm the one who should be offering to do things for you," the Homunculus was saying. "So long as I'm with you, I'll remind you of your brother. Do you want me to leave you?"

"No," Ed responded. "You shouldn't be alone now."

"Nor should you be as much of a self-sacrificial moron as Alphonse Elric was!" Granny interjected angrily. "You've discovered you're a living lie! If you want to cause us as little trouble as possible, _ask_ us for support! You'll hurt us more if you live up to the name we believed you had and force us to see you suffer like you are!" Winry suppressed the urge to squeeze her eyes closed. She was doing something similar. "You won't be imposing on us if you seek help confronting what you've found out, so don't be needlessly noble!"

The Homunculus was silent for a few seconds, then looked at Ed. The person sighed. "Okay."

Unsurprisingly, Granny turned to Winry. "That goes for you, too," Granny said. "Don't attempt to treat your grief over Al's death as unimportant because you think you need to keep your mind on taking care of Ed. If you keep your own anguish pent up, that will hurt Ed more than if you don't."

"I know," Winry replied. "When Ed leaves, I'll let it out."

Granny nodded in satisfaction.

"I need a name," the Homunculus spoke. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

There was silence as the four of them thought about it, and Winry was sure the person in the armor was thinking about it as well. Then Winry forced a smile.

"I have one," she addressed the Homunculus. "It's something alchemical, and it's a name that will remind you you're not an aberration, but something as wonderful and beautiful as any human born onto the planet. Citrine."

The Homunculus looked away at the praise, but after several seconds, he said, "I'm fine with that name. I'll be 'Citrine.'

"That's all I'm going to ask for now, however. That it's wrong for me to not ask for support when I'm hurting like this doesn't change you and Ed have more important things to do. The nation needs you."

So Citrine wasn't going to push himself as hard as Ed. Winry sighed deeply in relief. Citrine wasn't Al, but she'd known him for the majority of five years now, and he was a dear friend. She didn't want to see him strain himself fighting while carrying the burdens he was now bearing any more than she wanted to see Ed strain himself under the burdens he'd now been crushed by.

Ed gave Winry a quiet, pleading look through his tears.

Winry squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to let Ed go. She didn't want to send him back out there, into the nightmare reality where natural and artificial humans were willing to sacrifice countless millions within a whole country and alchemists treated their fellows as research specimens whose only values were in what knowledge could be learned from them and what they could contribute to progress, of the self, a group of scientists, or of civilization. She wouldn't have wanted to whether or not Al was still alive, but now that she knew he was dead, she wished with almost all she was she could stay like this forever, holding Ed in her arms, sheltering him from inhumanity and suffering and loss and guilt so he never knew any of them the slightest amount again.

But she wasn't sheltering him this time, unlike when he'd returned to her house for her to build him new automail. All she was doing was giving him a short rest, and she was certain that didn't mean the most miniscule thing to him. Even if – no, ' _when_ ' – she gave him a reason not to kill himself, she wouldn't be able to do anything else for him.

She couldn't leave his life now, but outside of keeping him from committing suicide, there was no point remaining in it.

She might as well get to work.

She opened her eyes, blinked to clear her eyes of tears, and spoke, "Let's go."

.

Citrine sat in the room he had left for Ed to occupy and watched Winry work on his automail arm.

Julia sat next to him.

He wished she wouldn't. She hadn't known Alphonse Elric, but he still wasn't the friend she'd thought he was. He was an abomination that never should have existed.

He didn't know how Greed did it. How was Greed able to see himself as something not just worthy of living, but _better_ than real humans? Citrine understood Greed had the same reasons to take pride in what he was humans had to take pride in being humans, but that didn't change Greed was a fake. He wasn't a naturally born life form created through conception and birth with a natural soul born from the One and the All, he'd been built like a machine and his soul was a piece of a soul separated from his parent through violating Equivalent Exchange. Furthermore, his parent had also been built like a machine, and his parent's soul wasn't natural, but something separated from the Truth that had never been meant to exist apart from it.

In addition, Greed's abilities weren't natural talents or skills he'd honed that made him something unique he could be proud of. He had those abilities because he'd been constructed to have them. He was more malleable than natural humans because he was an aberration, but he wouldn't have been able to make use of his malleability if he hadn't been purposefully given the means of doing so. His regenerative capabilities, and doubtlessly his ability to remain the same age and sleep less, were the result of having a Stone as a core, and the one called Father had given Greed his capacity to become the Ultimate Shield. Greed had almost no qualities as a Homunculus he could call his own to value.

Citrine was similar. He'd been artificially separated from the Truth and manufactured like he was a train. He hadn't been built to have the capabilities he had as a suit of armor, but they weren't his own talents and skills, just the benefits of being armor. 'Citrine' was a decent name, so he'd taken it, but Winry was wrong. He wasn't as wonderful and beautiful as a human born into the world. He wasn't even a human in any sense. It didn't matter he had memories of being himself and having a human personality; even his _soul_ was inhuman, so he wasn't a human the most infinitesimal amount. He was anathema to the concept of life, and a mockery of everything being human was.

Maybe Greed was able to see himself as valuable because he _had_ a himself, and his memories and emotions weren't fake, unlike Citrine's.

Citrine had never loved Ed.

It was almost impossible to believe. At present Citrine wanted more than anything to get up and sit at the other side of Ed's bed in a futile attempt to support Ed with his closeness. Further, Citrine couldn't encompass how agonizing it was knowing how much pain Ed was in now with thought, words, or any form of expression. Citrine would have rather been the result of the memories of every dead human who had once lived on the planet than see Ed suffer this much, and knowing there was completely nothing he could do to take any of Ed's pain away was causing Citrine to indefinably hope Homunculi had no afterlife, for even oblivion felt infinitely more than he deserved now.

But these emotions were fake. He had them because Ed had infused him with his version of memories he'd shared with Alphonse. Everything Citrine valued, everything he felt, all his beliefs, all his morals, and everything else were based on memories he'd never had. Perhaps memories _Alphonse_ had never had, for as well as Ed had known his younger brother, Ed could never have truly been aware what Alphonse had seen and heard and physically and emotionally felt and thought and believed during their shared experiences. Citrine's memories were deceptions, the memories Ed had perceived Alphonse as having had and illusions Citrine's mind had created to fill the gaps in between the memories Ed had given Citrine based on his mind's knowledge of the memories Ed had granted him.

Julia had called him extremely sensitive, and Gr… Pinako… had called him a self-sacrificial moron, but they didn't genuinely understand what it was like to have a mind with years of memories that were lies. He wasn't any of those things. He just felt and believed he should put others before himself because that was how Alphonse Elric, from Ed's perspective, had successfully been raised to think and feel and believe, and he was acting on those emotions and beliefs because he had nothing else to talk or act on.

The philosophical teaching went, "I think, therefore I am," but Citrine's thoughts weren't truly his own. They were the result of a personality Alphonse might have possessed that had been implanted in Citrine. He didn't have a himself to be, or a personality of his own, human or otherwise.

Unlike Greed's Chimeras, unlike Greed, Citrine was literally nothing. His soul was manufactured, a portion of his talents and skills came from having a body that had been constructed, the rest came from memories and feelings he'd never had, and the thoughts and emotions he'd had since his abominable facsimile of a birth had all come from another being's personality, if even that. Even the terror and anguish he was experiencing now due to his discovery of what he really was, so indescribable no mind could comprehend what they were, weren't his; he was terrified and anguished in the ways he was because of how Ed had perceived Alphonse's personality had developed and how Citrine had further developed that personality based on those memories.

There wasn't a single thing Citrine had that was real, or that he could call his own.

He didn't have anyone, too. Not Winry, not Pinako, not Julia. He was certain they still cared about him, but they cared about the false Citrine, the personality based on someone he'd never been. They knew no more about who the real Citrine was than he did, and they didn't care for the real Citrine. Winry, Pinako, and Julia weren't his friends. They were the friends of the fake Citrine they'd thought was Alphonse Elric.

And Ed wasn't his brother.

Being aware of that hurt almost as much as knowing how terribly Ed was hurting. The person he'd thought was the other half of the body he didn't have, the brother he'd thought loved him more than anyone in reality, wasn't his other half, and didn't love him. Citrine didn't _have_ an other half. He didn't _have_ a brother. Ed wasn't even his father… Citrine had been born of Ed's blood and Citrine's soul had been taken from the Truth by Ed, but if Ed loved Citrine now as a son, he, too, loved a Citrine who didn't exist.

Even if Ed had been his father, though, Citrine still didn't have a brother, or an other half. The person Ed had loved as a brother was the person he'd thought Citrine was. The years he'd spent knowing that Ed loved him so much nothing could describe it, that he could be completely comfortable around Ed and never need fear the most miniscule thing from him, had been as fake as everything else about Citrine's life. He'd never had that love. He'd always been empty of it; the endless void that wasn't even emptiness and didn't even lack anything that was everything his being was now because he didn't have his brother had always been there. He just hadn't known it.

He didn't have a brother, so he wasn't even nothing that didn't have nothing. He'd never been nothing that didn't have nothing.

It all hurt so much he was desperate to die, and he didn't see any point in not rubbing away his blood seal. He was anathema to life. His existence was a delusion. Ed didn't need him. Ed didn't love him. Winry didn't need him. Granny didn't need him. Julia didn't need him. They thought he was valuable, but they didn't know who he really was, because there _was_ no 'who he really was.' The Citrine they valued was as much of a farce as the Alphonse they'd thought he'd been. They didn't need the true, non-existent Citrine who was nothing.

He was searching for a reason not to, but even now he couldn't find an answer that wasn't born of his false personality.

It was selfish. It was giving up. It would hurt the people who knew him. It was morally wrong. It was cowardly.

But it was his fake personality that believed in not being selfish, or giving up, or hurting others, or doing something wrong, or being a coward. It wasn't Citrine who believed those things. Citrine believed in nothing.

This was a waste of time. There was no answer. He should end it now, before he polluted reality with the sin his 'life' was any further.

He moved his right arm up to his helmet.

 _I'm sorry, everyone. I know it will hurt you, but I don't know if that means an–_

The sheer wrongness of that thought hit him with so much force his helmet should have gone flying off and embedded itself in the wall that was far to the side.

He dropped his hand, sighing exhaustedly.

If it didn't mean something to him, it _should_. So if it didn't mean something, it had to begin meaning something to him now. Otherwise he wouldn't care about others as much as he should.

It was his false personality that believed he should care about others, but there were very good reasons for that. Not caring for others meant not caring if they suffered, and the concept of not caring if others suffered was _wrong_.

Thinking of the concept also almost physically hurt, but that was the false him, and that pain was unimportant.

That it was wrong to not care if others suffered was important, though. The standards he had weren't his, and were lies, but the standards he'd been taught, in his false or true memories, and developed his morals from, had come from others, from people who _weren't_ facsimiles of life. Because of that, he _had_ to trust them, and that meant not caring if others hurt was wrong.

So he couldn't kill himself.

He was trapped like this. As nothing, with no one, with nothing. All he had was the guidance of others, and that was of very limited worth. He couldn't stand on his legs if he had nothing of his own. He hadn't believed he had legs any more when the discovery of what had happened to Winry had taught him he might be incapable of taking care of Ed, but now that he knew Ed wasn't his brother and Winry wasn't his sister, that meant he could theoretically regain his legs. In practice, though, that was almost certainly going to be impossible, because he had nothing of his own.

However, he became aware, that he had no one and nothing and couldn't stand on his legs wasn't important. He did have the guidance of others, so he knew he shouldn't be thinking about himself now.

"Ed," he spoke up.

Winry stopped working on Ed's automail and Ed turned his head to face Citrine. "Yes?" Ed questioned.

"When you return to Central," Citrine replied, "I'm coming with you. I'm going into the base with you and Izumi."

Winry frowned, and looked extremely concerned. "Are you certain you want to do that?"

"It's not what I want to do," Citrine spoke back, "But I still have responsibilities, Alphonse or Citrine. It's what I've got to do."

Ed said nothing for several seconds, and then nodded. "All right."

.

Edward stood before the phone, inexpressibly wishing he was dead, and hoping transcending the word, in the sense he could hope, he'd be able to save Amestris soon, so he could kill himself. He wanted to die so desperately he would have been afraid he'd sleepwalk once he fell asleep on the way back to Central and attempt to kill himself in his sleep if he wasn't so exhausted. Even his exhaustion wasn't lessening the pain; everything hurt so much he might as well not be worse than exhausted.

He didn't care how much it hurt, though. He _wanted_ it to hurt. He'd murdered Al. Edward should be experiencing as much pain as it was possible for the human mind to feel every second of every day and night. He wished he'd been able to sleep since he'd discovered he'd murdered Al, even though Ed knew they would have been filled with nightmares surmounting thought. He shouldn't be shielded from any of the guilt and agony. He should be ravenously devouring every single piece of it as though he'd been entirely starved of food for years and they were all that could feed him, even if not being shielded from it meant his mind would shatter.

It wouldn't be anything close to enough. That was even more true because, even though Edward was grieving and remembering the times he'd spent staying up at night with Al with alchemy textbooks open before them, the times he'd woken up to the feeling of his brother's heartbeat in the morning, and countless other portions of the life he'd spent with Al, he'd resumed moving before grieving for a long time. But he should be ravenously devouring it all, just as he should die. None of it would atone, but not much else could be as wrong as murdering Al and continuing to live after Ed had, and not embracing the guilt and anguish he felt from having done so with all of the boundless void empty of even nothingness that was all he was now.

However, even though he hoped surmounting the term he'd be able to save Amestris soon and was desperate to die, he wasn't picking up the phone. Once he did, he'd have to tell Teacher, directly or through Mason, Al was dead and talk to her about her failed human transmutation, and he didn't want to do any of those things to her. It also wasn't his place to tell her she'd been wrong about the life form she'd transmuted all these years, even though they were equals now.

But he was doing Teacher a disservice by sparing her the truth. He clenched his teeth, picked up the phone, and dialed her number.

"Hello." Teacher's voice answered this time, and Ed suppressed the urge to cringe. "This is Curtis Meat, what can we do for you?"

"I'm ready," Edward responded without preamble. "I'll be departing Carvar on foot shortly after I get off the phone with you and returning to Central. Where do you want to join up with us?"

"At where the southwestern entrance near what's now the western industrial sector of Central will be if it's still there," Teacher replied. "I'll be bringing Sig along. He's not going to be able to keep an eye on the recluse outside Dublith in any sense. Soldiers have surrounded the mansion from a distance and have informed the people of Dublith the area is now under military jurisdiction and anyone who enters it without official permission will be treated as a possible accomplice of the traitor and shot. A week ago, Missus Bradley was assassinated," Ed's eyes widened, "by forces in league with the rebel," all the blood drained from Edward's face. Was this his fault too? He didn't know if the Fϋhrer's wife had been in on the plot or unaware of what her husband was working for, but it didn't matter. She shouldn't have been killed. Had Ed's stupidity claimed the life of someone for the fourth or fifth time? "and the military is fortifying the location in preparation to move in and neutralize her."

Ed closed his eyes in sorrow that had nothing to do with who was responsible for Missus Bradley's assassination.

"It's good you'll be bringing Sig," Ed spoke, keeping his feelings about Missus Bradley's death out of his voice. Teacher must know Ed felt he might be to blame for this, but Winry didn't need to fear something else might be upsetting Ed at present. He couldn't do the most infinitesimal thing for her, but he couldn't do nothing. "There's someone we need him to keep an eye on. I'll give you the details when we see each other."

"Very well," Teacher replied. "Has anything changed with Mustang?"

"Not to my knowledge," Ed spoke back. He wished he could believe that meant Mustang might have come to his senses by now, but now that Edward knew Al was dead, he couldn't believe anything good could happen. "And I won't be able to ask around if anything has once I'm in Central. I'm a fugitive now. Whether Mustang's improved or not, we're going to have to go in without him."

"I see what you mean," Teacher replied. "I'll be there. And Ed?"

"Could you please not tell me you're sorry?" Edward asked. He knew Teacher would anyway, so he hurried to speak, "There's three other things you should know."

"What are they?"

"I returned to Resembool and investigated the remains of the life form Al and I transmuted," Edward replied. "The parts of the remains that weren't deformed didn't match Mom's features." He stopped talking, giving Teacher a chance to verbally lay into him for his presumption, but she was silent. "Human transmutation on natural-born humans doesn't fail because alchemists haven't yet discovered how to do it. It fails because it can't be done." He was going to have to find out where Rose had moved to once they had the evidence. He had to apologize to her for telling her if she'd helped Cornello transmute her boyfriend, she would have caused him to die painfully. "Al and I didn't transmute our mother, you didn't transmute your baby, and I didn't transmute Al."

Teacher said nothing for a number of seconds. Then she spoke, her voice unreadable, "Thank you for telling me this." Ed's eyes widened. Why was she thanking him?

Oh. Of course. She must have believed she'd murdered her baby all these years.

"I'm sorry, Ed," she went on, voice now gentle. "I want to believe that how something exists in the suit of armor is evidence it's possible to perform human transmutation on living humans, and you don't know for certain Al is dead, but I know that's self-deception as much as you do. We know what life is transmuted when the Portal is opened."

Teacher had no idea how much Edward had indefinably wanted to take the existence of a soul in the suit of armor as evidence the soul in the armor might be Al himself. But, as Teacher had spoken, Edward knew he'd be lying to himself to think that. They had irrefutable proof of what you transmuted when you opened the Portal of Truth.

"Are you sure you're capable of infiltrating the base, though?" Teacher questioned.

"Yes," Ed responded. "Winry and Granny installed my automail leg and arm at the same time, and I conquered the rehabilitation in approximately a year. That, combined with how I rose to the challenge of your harshest physical training despite my age, should tell you how experienced I am with keeping pain from interfering with my ability to do what needs to be done."

"It does," Teacher said. "I'll see you soon, then."

She hung up, and Ed did the same.

He turned to confront at Winry, Granny, Citrine, and Julia, who were standing a distance away in the sitting room. "Teacher's husband will be keeping an eye on you," he addressed Julia, and she nodded.

He faced Winry. He wanted to leave her even less now, as completely useless as remaining with her would be, now that she was carrying the weight of the knowledge Al was dead in addition to everything she'd been carrying inside her before he'd left for Resembool. But if he didn't, even though he knew his efforts wouldn't make the most infinitesimal amount of difference, he'd be intentionally sitting back and letting Winry perhaps become part of a Philosopher's Stone, and intentionally letting others perhaps save Amestris and die or kill people as they did. He extremely highly doubted it was possible for him to hate himself any more than he already did, but if it was possible, he was certain he did at the knowledge he was leaving her to grieve without him. However, he had to go.

"Stop worrying about me," Winry spoke. "I don't matter. What matters is you stay true to your responsibilities as who you are."

Ed wanted to argue she had it backwards, and _she_ was the one people should be worrying about, but he knew he wouldn't be able to convince her, so he was quiet.

"What's wrong with Mustang, though?" she questioned.

"I'll tell you another time," Edward responded.

He looked at Citrine and Julia. "Let's pack up and get going."

.

"My memories and my soul are fake!"-Alphonse Elric

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST:

Episode 23: FULLMETAL HEART


	17. Manufactured Humans

.

 **CHAPTER 17:**

 **MANUFACTURED HUMANS**

.

Wrath looked up from his paperwork at a knock on the door.

He put his hand on the hilt of the sword belted at his waist and gestured to Hughes with his head, and Hughes walked over to the double doors and opened them, then stood to the side and put his left hand in the pocket he'd used to carry pictures of Elicia in until Wrath had had a number of them burnt and now held two of Hughes' knives, and took a knife out of it. A female soldier with short black hair and glasses walked in, a figure in the brown shades of a Cretan Lieutenant Colonel accompanying her, wearing a white and gold mask over all of his head and carrying no visible weapon.

"This is the person, sir," the soldier told him unnecessarily.

Wrath inclined his head. "Thank you for bringing him here. You're dismissed."

"Sir!" The soldier saluted him and departed, closing the door behind her.

Wrath stood up and walked out from behind his desk, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Storche informed me you wish to offer your services to Amestris through me. What is it you want to do for this nation, why have you come to the Fϋhrer rather than a lower ranking officer, and how do I know I can trust you aren't a double agent?"

"You can trust I'm not a double agent because I _am_ a double agent," the Cretan officer spoke back, voice distorted by his mask, "In a sense. Creta knows nothing of my endeavor, and it would see the task I've taken upon myself as treason if it knew about it, but I'm offering to betray Creta for my nation's sake. I will serve you, but my loyalty is first and foremost to Creta. I'm aware this is no proof you can trust me, but I have no assurances to offer other than this."

"I don't need any better assurance," Wrath spoke. "I don't need any assurance at all. I'm willing to take my chances. If I wasn't, you would not be here. I was asking in the small hope you could give me proof, but I don't need it.

"Lieutenant Colonel Herschel, was it?" The officer nodded. "How do you desire to serve Creta by serving Amestris, and why do you wish to speak directly to me?"

"During the Ishval War of Annihilation," Herschel – if that was his real name – replied, "Our spies within Amestris reported an unusual phenomenon reoccurring. According to our spies, two of the State Alchemists you deployed to suppress the Ishvalan revolt repeatedly enacted transmutations they couldn't have had enough matter at their disposal to perform, and therefore must have violated the Law of Equivalent Exchange. We've believed since then Amestris has discovered how to create the Philosopher's Stone," Wrath's wariness of Herschel grew, and once more he wished he could see into people's minds with his Ultimate Eye, "And from that time we've sought the means to acquire one of your Stones for ourselves, or at least learn how to transmute it.

"Over two-months-and-a-half ago, one of our spies who reports to me, a spy skilled in lip reading, witnessed your confrontation with the Strong Arm Alchemist, the Fullmetal Alchemist, and his brother in East City from the train that arrived there before you threatened them into remaining loyal. I thus learned you're trying to achieve something you need alchemists who have performed human transmutation to accomplish." The Lieutenant Colonel pulled up the part of his mask over most of his face, revealing a face that was a mass of scar tissue, and then closed it. Then he clapped his hands and touched his uniform shirt, and green currents ran over it, shifting its color to Amestrian blue. "I performed human transmutation myself years ago, and lost my face as the price. Human transmutation is illegal in Creta, so, after spending weeks thinking about whether I should take this course, I decided to travel to meet with you without the military's knowledge to offer to assist you in accomplishing your plan in the hopes you know how to create the Philosopher's Stone. If you do, I will work for you in exchange for you teaching me."

Herschel might have been telling the truth, but Wrath doubted it. It was possible their use of the imperfect Stones in the Ishvalan Civil War had reaped an unexpected benefit, but the timing of the offer made it improbable. It was likely no coincidence Herschel was offering them his services as an alchemist who had attempted human transmutation around a week-and-a-half after Dante had delivered her ultimatum and Wrath had dispatched troops to Dublith to prepare to besiege her and provoke her to play her hand. It was more likely he was working for Dante, and sought to infiltrate their conclave as part of whatever Dante's plan for acquiring their underground Stone was, or whatever her true plot was.

Yet as Herschel probably knew, this was an offer they had to accept. With the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother fugitives and Marcoh's and Mustang's statuses as sacrifices still up in the air, they needed as many certain sacrifices within easy reach as they could have. Even if Marcoh and Mustang were sure sacrifices or they were sure one or both would become sacrifices, they would have had to accept this offer. The more sacrifices they had available, the easier it might be to use five sacrifices when the Promised Day arrived; the more sacrifices they had, the greater their chances of having one or more who were less troublesome than others or who gave them no trouble, letting them kill one or more of the more troublesome sacrifices, rather than them being required to contain the sole five available, no matter how troublesome one or more of them were. As well, they wouldn't have to conquer the difficulty of containing Van Hohenheim. Even after what Mustang had accomplished at Liore and experiencing uncertainty he hadn't believed he would, Wrath was confident Father and the rest of them could use Van Hohenheim and any sacrifice or sacrifices, no matter how troublesome he or she or they was or were, but the less effort they had to put into using five sacrifices, the better. Wrath couldn't turn Herschel down; all Wrath and his family could do was use Herschel and stay on their guard for whatever he might have up his sleeve.

But they could almost certainly deal with Herschel if he was a danger. That Herschel was making his offer this soon after Dante had given them her ultimatum meant, if he was working for Dante, he had reason to believe he could fulfill his objective even if the Homunculi believed he'd attempt something. In addition, Wrath had firsthand experience with how brilliant Dante was, so if Herschel believed he could succeed, his reasons for believing so were probably good ones. But Dante lacked the centuries of experience Father had at subterfuge. No matter how much of a genius she was, Father was more than capable of outthinking her for reasons that had nothing to do with how he was a Homunculus and Dante was a human.

So Wrath played the game Dante might have thought he would. "I assume," Wrath said, "Should we make this agreement, you intend to use your ability to transmute without a circle to commit suicide, depriving us of your service, should you discover we're not staying true to our end of the deal."

"Indeed." Herschel nodded.

Wrath pretended to be thinking about it for a period of time, and then opened his mouth. "I do know how to form the Philosopher's Stone, and it is vital we accomplish the plan of ours that involves alchemists who have performed human transmutation. Enough I'm willing to give you the secret of the Philosopher's Stone. But you should know the government of Amestris is more than you believe it to be. I'm not the leader of the nation." Herschel's eyes conveyed nothing of what he felt at hearing this, if he felt anything. "The true power in Amestris lies behind my throne. You should also know not I or any of those who genuinely guide Amestris can tell you what we want alchemists who have tried human transmutation for, for reasons I cannot disclose. You'll have to obey our commands without any awareness of what will happen as a result of you doing so. Knowing this, are you still willing to serve us?"

"I don't care who is overseeing Amestris," Herschel responded. "I care about serving Creta. I care what your plot is, for I'm aware it could pose a threat to Creta, but I'm confident we'll be able to defend ourselves against anything you unleash against us once we have the Stone, so I'm willing to remain in the dark about it. I'm still willing to serve you, and I will follow your orders without question."

"Then your offer is taken up," Wrath said back with a smile. "Welcome to Amestris, Lieutenant Colonel."

.

Ed, again wearing faded white hooded rags over his black clothes, turned the corner near the construction site his copy of Greed's map said an entrance to the complex of the one called Father had lain beyond decades ago into a narrow alleyway with pipes, a box, and other objects in the vicinity of the walls, and saw Teacher and Sig standing by a metal door composed of bars behind a barrel.

Teacher walked up to him and Citrine and put her arms around their shoulders, pulling their heads to hers. Edward was as terrified he'd murder Teacher if he was near her as he was terrified he'd murder Winry if he was near her, but as with Winry, he didn't care enough to resist. Tears filled Ed's eyes, and he buried his face in Teacher's shoulder and let them come. He remembered the arm holding him blocking Al's kicks, then seizing his foot to twist him around and slam him onto his stomach, and Edward squeezed his eyes shut extremely tightly and let himself break down into his tears, not caring as the force of his crying wracked his body. He'd murdered Al and Al was dead, and didn't cherish anyone or anything, or have any dreams for his future, or dislike anything, or have the ability to walk on his legs, and Al could think and feel and do and be nothing. How could being strong and tough genuinely matter?

Edward was too emotionally exhausted and pushed beyond the limits of his ability to feel he couldn't cry that hard, though. Not after the nightmares defying nightmares he'd had the past four nights.

They'd been so horrific transcending thought, as good as it was he hadn't been spared them, he _wished_ surmounting encompassment they'd shattered his mind, and they'd been so indefinably agonizing they'd surpassed his ability to feel and he'd felt nothing through all or most of them. In most of his nightmares Al had been rotting and falling apart with and decaying with his nose and ears and tongue and unseeing eyes falling out and tatters of flesh falling off with blood pouring out of the openings they created and his brain matter and skull had been decaying and falling into small pieces and his muscles and bones had been falling off and falling into small pieces, while Al had been motionless with his eyes and eye sockets crying tears of blood. However, in most of Edward's nightmares these things, with the exception of the tears of blood, had been happening to Al's body because Edward was deconstructing it in coursing blue, or, if they were happening on their own, Ed had made it worse, seizing his bones in his automail hand and crushing them to powder, or carving into Al's skin with a serrated knife and twisting the knife as he tore up Al's flesh into a bloody mass, or slowly driving the point of the knife into Al's eyes or tongue or ears, or swinging a torch at Al and lighting him on fire, or holding a molten hot poker to Al's eyes or skin, or slowly driving a molten hot poker into his eyes or tongue, or torturing Al with the worst implements of torture his brain could imagine, or slowly or quickly bending Al's fingers back until they broke, or slowly or quickly twisting Al's arms and legs until they broke at the knees, hips, or ankles, or reconstructing Al as one of the Chimeras he'd imagined Winry becoming and then hurting it as it cried tears of blood and rotted and decayed and came apart in one or more or these ways or deconstructing it and causing it to rot and decay and come apart, or something else. At times Edward did one or more of these things with exquisite care, making it as painful as possible. At times Ed did one or more of these things swiftly. At times Al was doing one or more or all of these things to Ed in return.

And almost always Al was snarling or screaming or otherwise telling Edward he hated him so much even if he died over and over an infinite number of times in the most agonizing ways possible it wouldn't satisfy his hatred, and Al wished Ed had never been conceived and he'd been an only child, and Ed had always hurt and suffocated Al and dragged him down and burdened him and leeched him of all vitality, leaving Al a withered, desiccated husk every moment of his life, and Ed had betrayed Al's unreserved love and trust of him and had never been able to take care of Al the most infinitesimal bit all the years Al had been alive.

Edward was going to try to keep his mind whole, but he didn't know how long he could take nightmares defying nightmares like these before he _did_ go crazy.

But being this exhausted and pushed beyond his limits wasn't lessening the inexpressible pain nearly enough, and if he could have done nothing, he would have wanted to just lie in Teacher's arm and cry. Al was gone, Al was dead, and Edward had murdered him.

However, although Ed couldn't do nothing, he barely cared about being strong and tough, so he let himself cry.

Teacher didn't release him after a number of minutes must have passed, and Ed realized she wasn't going to until he moved himself. He pulled back, and Citrine followed Edward's example. Teacher gave them a gentler smile than he'd thought she was capable of and let him go.

She faced Citrine. "What name have you assumed or been given?"

"Winry named me 'Citrine,'" the Homunculus answered.

Teacher nodded. "A good name."

She turned to Julia, who now wearing a tan shirt, gray pants, and her bracelet. "Who is this?"

"Julia Crichton," Edward identified her. "She's from Milos, a country Creta and Amestris conquered in the west. She wants the Philosopher's Stone to give her nation back their independence, and blackmailed us into taking her with us so she can try to claim one of ours. She's the one we need Sig to watch."

Sig moved to the opposite side of the alley from the barred door. "I have no problems with that."

Julia gave Ed a challenging look and walked over to stand by Sig.

Ed looked at the barred door. "Have you seen if this leads into the complex yet?" he questioned.

"I thought it best to wait for you," Teacher replied. "The more people down there at once, the better our fighting potential. But a staircase can be seen descending to a barred, locked gate that has no reason to be there if this isn't an entrance. I'm fairly sure we can get in from here."

Ed's heart pounded rapidly. This was it. After weeks of stalling the Homunculi and High Command, investigating leads, planning, studying alkahestry, and delays, they were at last about to put his plan into action.

He took deep breaths and tried to calm his heart. He was going to fail. If he tried to take care of people he murdered them, and he was a liability who destroyed the lives of those he loved. But he could never do nothing again, and he could never refrain from trying his hardest again. That meant he was going to go through with this, so he shouldn't let his uncertainty get to him this much.

"Hughes told Mason about the mannequins," Teacher spoke. "I recommend we head for the areas of the complex connected to the Central Command Center. That's most likely where we'll find the mannequins and any files discussing them."

"That's a good idea," Citrine said.

Teacher turned and opened the barred door. "Let's go."

Edward took one more deep breath and followed her.

With Citrine behind him, they climbed down the staircase to a gateway constructed of various bars with points at the top of the highest vertical bars and chains wrapped around the lowest pair of bars. Teacher clapped her hands and touched one of the vertical bars with them, and the gateway shifted upwards into an open arch in crackling blue.

They continued down the stairs, and emerged into a corridor of gray stone with thin pipes extending along its walls and a grating at the top of a curving ceiling with two thicker pipes running along its edges and a third thicker pipe and a thinner pipe running through it. The corridor led into a larger passageway of the same gray stone with a sewer channel cutting between two walkways and more grating at the center of the ceiling.

Growls came from above the grating, and Ed clapped his hands and suppressed the urge to cringe as he transmuted a sword out of his automail arm in blue light, his stomach heaving violently. After Winry had tried to kill Scar, weapons felt like horrific things that never should have existed, and he wished he didn't need to carry one now, and would never need to carry one again. He wasn't even sure he was comfortable fighting at all now, with a weapon or without one.

However, he had no choice in any of it. He couldn't refrain from battling while his companions risked their lives, and for the same reasons, he had to try to fight his hardest and pull his weight, so he had to fight with a weapon. He had to battle, and, as much as he loathed it, he had to battle with a weapon.

He wondered if he'd feel better wielding a firearm as opposed to a blade, but he extremely highly doubted it. A gun was the weapon of a soldier whose purpose was to kill, and he'd hoped he could avoid carrying one from before he'd enlisted. Guns were no more terrible than swords, but their connection to soldiers had made them appear worse even before Winry had attempted murder. Now, just holding one would likely cause him to feel like he was going to retch, if not cause him to throw up.

He sighed heavily and looked up at the grating. "I'm sorry," he apologized to the Chimeras he could see shifting above the grating. "I know you're just doing what you were trained to do. But we can't let you eat us. I'll make this as quick as I can."

The grating was moved to the side for a long distance before and behind them, and a throng of unnatural animals leapt down to the walkway and charged the three of them.

Teacher ran to meet them, and spun between a long, large brown snake with gray-and-light purple head of a tiger and the orange tail of a scorpion, and a Chimera with the yellow legs of a cheetah, the tan head of a rhinoceros, the green wings of a bat, and the dark blue body of an armadillo. She turned her spin into a lethal kick at the back of the tiger head that smashed the back of its skull, then brought her arms around the neck of the rhinoceros head and twisted, snapping it. A dark purple eel with the translucent wings of a dragonfly shot at her through the air as she did this, but Teacher ducked before it could reach her, clapped her hands, and slapped the walkway. A tall spike of stone shot up into the flying Chimera and impaled it in a wash of blue.

A muscular Chimera with the horns of a ram and dark green gorilla fur swung at Edward, but he leapt over the thing's arm and sliced its neck open. A black starfish with the legs of a spider, a white-and-dark purple giraffe's neck, and a gray crocodile's head with the tusks of a boar rushed Citrine, but he leapt onto its back, driving it into the walkway, and then snapped its neck by driving an elbow into its back. A white chimpanzee with the talons of a falcon swung down from the edge of where the grating had been at them, but Citrine leapt and drove an elbow into its stomach, sending it flying back, and Ed cut through its back as it fell.

"I remember the location of a large chamber near Central Command on a high level of this base!" Citrine cried, grabbing the horns of a Chimera with the body of a buffalo, the head of a great white shark, and the horns of a bull as it ran at him and skidding back along the walkway. "It's the sole large chamber in this base that close to the Central Command Center! We should travel there first, in case the Homunculi and High Command chose to use it! Follow me!"

Teacher, a metal spear in her hand she must have transmuted from one of the curving metal constructs on the wall, ran up to Citrine's side and stabbed it into the head of the Chimera Citrine was battling. It fell, and a bat-winged brown-and-tan-striped tiger with the antlers of a moose swooped at her. Ed ducked under it and opened its chest before it could reach her, and Teacher hurled her spear into the head of a red elephant with a wasp's stinger at the end of its trunk. Then she clapped her hands, slapped the walkway, and blue crackled over it and the wall a distance down the passageway. Swords of stone and metal burst out of the floor and wall, and numerous Chimera fell, a number falling into the sewer water.

"Lead the way!" Teacher shouted, turning and clapping her hands again, sending more swords down the corridor in the opposite direction in currents of blue and impaling the Chimera assaulting them from that direction.

Citrine gestured with his left arm in the direction of the first group of swords Teacher had transmuted, so Ed clapped his own hands and touched the walkway, and sent a stone wall up out of it he extended across the sewer channel to the opposite wall and up through the opening in the ceiling where the grating had been, partially cutting them off from attacks from that direction.

Beyond the swords, below grating that was still in place in the ceiling, a giant white-furred Chimera with three wolf heads with glowing yellow eyes and brown manes roared at them and raced in their direction, barreling through the blades. Teacher waited until it was almost upon them, then spun and fell onto her hands, thrusting herself into the air and ramming her heels into the undersides of the left and center necks, snapping them. Ed jumped and slashed open the right forehead.

It fell, and a red frog-like Chimera with large teeth and a second sharp-toothed maroon snake's head protruding from inside its mouth hopped over the wolf Chimera's corpse, a dark blue lizard Chimera with sharp teeth in its front mouth and additional mouths with large teeth that weren't sharp and single eyes at places on the sides and top of its head behind it and its foremost two eyes, at its side. Teacher grabbed the head of the snake and violently pushed it back into the frog-like Chimera's mouth and into its throat, choking it, and Ed cut into the compound head of its companion where it met its torso.

A large, thick-bodied orange Chimera with the torso and tail of a snake and a head with four curving, sharp-pointed gray horns, a two-leveled forehead with both levels flaring, razor-sharp teeth, and sharp points extending out from its face to the sides of its nose and below its chin, the head obviously transmuted from too many animals for Edward to identify any of them, coiled on the opposite walkway and then flung itself over the sewer channel at them. But by the time it reached them Teacher had recovered her spear, and she stabbed it up into the thing's head behind the points under its chin and out through the Chimera's skull, and it dropped.

A Chimera with the black-feathered body of an owl and the gray-feathered wings of an eagle soared over the sewer channel, and Citrine punched it in the forehead, knocking it unconscious or killing it and sending it into the water.

Seeing the Chimera fall into the water brought an idea to mind, and Edward cursed silently. He wished he'd thought of that at the beginning. If he had, they might have been able to avoid killing any Chimeras at all.

Ed looked at Teacher and gestured at the water with his head, and Teacher nodded, obviously becoming aware what he had in mind. The two alchemists clapped their hands and touched them to the water, blue played over it, and fog flowed up out of it and spread down the passageway. Then they clapped their hands again, touched the water, more blue coursed over it, and they reconstructed the surface of the water into a combination of strong-smelling liquids.

"That should enable us to evade the ones who don't know to attack strangers they can't see or smell," Edward remarked. He'd keep doing this as long as he was in passageways with water, and he was certain Teacher would as well. They wouldn't be able to obscure the Chimeras' sights and senses of smell if they traveled too far into corridors without water, but this would make it easier for them to move for a time, short or long, and there was the possibility there wouldn't be any Chimera in or near any corridors they traveled without sewer channels in them.

"Let's hurry," Teacher replied.

The three of them wove through the broken swords.

.

The Dwarf in the Flask continued to listen with his greater body, but the sounds of battle didn't resume. Whoever had invaded the complex had been killed by the gatekeepers or found a way to hide from them.

The Dwarf in the Flask hoped it was the former, but with Dante at large, he needed to assume it was the latter until he could be certain it wasn't. He sighed. He'd been looking forward to rereading the book he'd written with his hypotheses about whether plants had souls as animals did, but it appeared that was going to have to wait.

He experienced a faint flicker of something he hadn't felt for so long he couldn't place it. What was it?

Then he frowned as he became aware what it was. He was irritated. With a human.

That was wrong. Discussing and thinking about how to render Dante harmless had been taking up more of his time than he'd wanted it to, but she was still an insect. No matter how much she'd disturbed his quiet life of researching and reading, she shouldn't have been able to get to him. She was too far beneath him for her words and actions to mean anything to him, regardless of how they affected him.

But he was irritated nonetheless.

What was wrong with him?

It didn't matter. He was reacting to a human's words and actions, so how he felt about them meant nothing just like Dante's words and actions meant nothing. He'd worry about it another time, when there were no humans in this area of the world and he could have as much time to himself as he wanted.

His daughter opened the single metal door leading onto the platform at the top of the right staircase, relative to the direction he was looking in, that descended along the wall facing his throne and walked down the stairs.

The Dwarf in the Flask kept himself from hoping this had nothing to do with Dante. He would not let her affect him.

"I may have something good to report, Father," his daughter told him when she stopped in front of the dais he was sitting on.

"Oh?" the Dwarf in the Flask questioned. It wasn't Dante. That was good.

"I've been reading the military's files on the missions the Fullmetal Alchemis was assigned during his years of loyal service," his daughter responded, "Looking for patterns to how he does things that would give us clues as to what he might do now that the Rockbells are free, and I saw something. At no time during any of his missions has he neutralized a target by killing him or her. Nor has his brother. They've always limited themselves to injuring their opponents or knocking them unconscious."

The Dwarf in the Flask saw where she was going with this. "You believe he hasn't informed the populace of our plans because he's searching for evidence he can use to turn most of the military against the Fϋhrer, in the hopes High Command will abdicate without combat if little to none of the military is willing to follow their orders?"

"Yes," his daughter replied. "Further, I may know where he's going to attempt to retrieve evidence from. As we know, he's met with Greed, so it's possible he knows about this place and has a dated map of it. Additionally, the day Scar infiltrated the Third Laboratory, I discussed the mannequin soldiers with Doctor Jackson. It's possible his two Xingese allies who didn't rescue the Rockbells overheard this discussion."

Then the intruder or intruders might not be working for Dante, if he or she or they were still alive. Good.

"That's plausible," the Dwarf in the Flask said. "And, if that is his goal, you may have found out it might be at a good time. The gatekeepers recently attacked one or more intruders in the complex. The intruder or intruders could be the Elrics, en route to the mannequins. As the Elrics may reach the vicinity of Philosopher's Stones, I want you to go to the Bradley estate and alert Pride, and then I want the two of you to head to the mannequin lab and destroy all the files there. After that, regardless of whether there are any documents missing or the Elrics show up and escape with any of them, Wrath is to take Pride to Radio Capital and Pride is to deliver a tear-filled story over the radio of how Edward Elric assassinated his supposed 'mother.' That will ensure most of the military believes the evidence the Fullmetal Alchemist shows them was forged, or, if the Elric brothers fail to recover their evidence and fall back on alerting the people, most of the populace won't believe their warnings. If you are able to capture the Elrics, there will be no need to do this, but if you can't, Pride and Wrath are to see it done."

His daughter inclined her head. "Your will, Father.

"You say 'capture.' Should I take it this means you're no longer willing for us to kill the Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the other sacrifices?"

"That is correct. It's now so close to the Promised Day we'd be taking a risk of unnecessary size if we disposed of anyone we know we can sacrifice and fashioned or located other sacrifices in their place. The Elric brothers are to be taken alive."

"As you wish," his daughter spoke back. "What should I do if the mannequins have been broken or so many of the Stones have been taken we don't have enough left to activate all the mannequins?"

"I'll deal with any of those problems should they have arisen," Father responded. "Now that we know what form the military desires for the mannequins, I can transmute them a replacement legion should it be necessary, and while I'd prefer not to break any more Stones off my body, I will if we need to replace one or more of Marcoh's Stones."

"Understood," his daughter spoke.

.

Citrine walked through the empty white corridor, Ed and Izumi at his side. Ed's automail blade was still extended, but they'd been able to sneak past any other Chimeras in their way without fighting them in the sewer corridors, and they hadn't heard or seen any Chimeras since they'd entered these thinner white passageways.

Citrine could tell Ed was relieved at that, and Citrine knew why. After he'd found out Winry had attempted to kill Scar, before Citrine had discovered he wasn't Alphonse Elric, he'd hoped he'd never need to wield a weapon or fight anyone or anything again. Citrine doubted Ed was unwilling to battle at all, although he was certain Ed had doubts about fighting, but Citrine was sure Ed felt similar to how he did about weapons.

"If Scar is right," Ed spoke up, "We may be about to come upon many imperfect Philosopher's Stones. Do you know yet if you want one or more to try to leave your armor flask?"

"I don't," Citrine responded. "I don't know what I want to do in relationship to anything." He turned to the right at an intersection, and Ed and Izumi accompanied him. "This may be hard for you to understand, because all your memories are real, but everything I am now is based on the Al you perceived lived years ago, and that makes it a lie. There is no real me who wants anything, so I can't know what I want."

"I understand," Izumi put in. "All the perspectives and beliefs and emotions you have now are the result of a past you didn't have, and a past built upon the one you didn't have, so you have no personality of your own you can identify what you want from."

Citrine's eyes widened, and he wished he could cry. Someone _did_ understand what it was like.

"But you're wrong," Izumi spoke. "You have no desires of your own, for others or for yourself, and you have no self, but that doesn't mean there's no 'real you.' Who you are is defined by your choices; you become what you decide to be." Citrine staggered, and reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled violently. "What you felt during your experiences since your birth as armor was influenced by your false memories, but that doesn't make the thoughts and emotions themselves fake. They took place, even though they were colored by fabrications. So you can choose a new path of your own free will, one that is yours alone, based on your knowledge of what thoughts and feelings can be elicited by the circumstances you've lived through, and if you choose a path based on that knowledge, and not based on what those thoughts and feelings believe and want, you'll be choosing a path that belongs to you, not to the Al Ed thought existed. Then, when you walk that path, you'll develop perspectives and emotions of your own. You _can_ have a personality of your own. You just need to choose it."

Citrine was barely able to keep his legs from giving out, and he began to shake beyond extremely violently.

He was a facsimile of a living being now, but he wasn't condemned to be that way for the rest of his life. He could never be any less anathema to life or a mockery of humanity, but he _could_ become real. All he needed to do was choose who to become.

"Then I will," he said. "Thank you."

Izumi smiled. "You're welcome."

What thoughts and feelings did he know experiences could be evoked?

That was easy to answer. He knew how horrific defying thought it was to not be able to take care of someone you loved, and to lose a sibling, and how horrible it was to not be able to support others, and to learn everything you knew was an illusion and you had no one and nothing.

Then he knew what his choice was.

He chose to be someone who would try to take care of and support others, and who would try to ensure no one else lost a family member or came to believe lies. He knew that his false personality wanted him to take that path, but he didn't care. He wasn't making this decision because his fake personality wanted him to. He was making this decision because he was aware of what hurt him.

Guilt that wasn't guilt consumed him that he wasn't making this choice because he was aware that what hurt him hurt others, and he was making it because it hurt himself, but that was his fake personality, and he was choosing to support others, so he knew from what he'd been taught by others he wasn't doing anything that wrong.

"My choice is to watch out for you two," he spoke. "And Alphonse's other companions and the other people he was looking after. Not myself. Because witnessing others' pain is what hurts me most." He suppressed the urge to look for disappointment in Ed's and Izumi's eyes. That was his false personality. "Maybe I'll want a Stone in the future, but I'm not choosing to take one now if we find one."

.

Joshua pulled his head back around the corner in the white hallway and turned to his older sister, filled with excitement and curiosity. "The footsteps belong to your blood siblings and my blood grandmother," he whispered. "This is a pleasant coincidence. I knew we'd cross paths with them eventually, since Greed told us they're opposing our stepbrother, but I didn't think it would be this soon."

They were sneaking through their stepbrother's underground complex on the way to the Central Command Center to murder Major General McKinley and Brigadier General Edison, to begin pretending they were carrying out Mom's false ultimatum so Ashleigh could obtain God. He and Patricia had evaded the gatekeepers by moving inside the walls and as water atop the surface of water, but when they'd reached this Chimera-free area of the complex, he'd separated himself from the walls and Patricia had resumed her human shape. Upon hearing footsteps walking away from them down an intersecting hallway, Joshua had quietly looked around the corner, and seen Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, and his blood grandmother walking in the direction of the mannequin laboratory he and his sister were headed for.

"Are they moving towards the mannequin lab?" Patricia asked back in a whisper.

"Yes," Joshua responded.

Patricia's face took on a thoughtful expression. After several seconds, she said, "If we meet them outside the area of the complex our stepbrother's greater body extends through, it won't jeopardize Ashleigh's plan even if we do get into a fight. So let's wait until they enter the mannequin chamber, and then confront them. I want to speak with them as much as you do."

Joshua smiled. "Thanks, Sis'." He gave her a hug, and Patricia returned it.

"You're welcome," Patricia smiled back.

Joshua released her, and took a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly pounding heart.

"Are you nervous?" Patricia questioned.

There was no reason to hide it. He shouldn't be… grandmother or not, Izumi Curtis was a filthy human… but he was, and he knew it made sense for him to be. Izumi _was_ his grandmother. He'd been transmuted from the blood of her unborn son. She was at least as much family as his mother was, and in numerous ways even more so.

"Yeah," he replied.

"So am I," Patricia said, sounding guilty. "I know it's foolish. They're noble, and Ed and Al are both my blood siblings and stepsiblings, but they're still no different than any other repulsive human infesting this world. They're still irredeemably flawed. They're not Mom. But I feel that way anyway." She smiled self-depreciatingly. "It's more proof the maxim is true: 'It takes a fool to know a fool.'"

Joshua remembered Pride's idiotic belief Homunculi were a higher link in the chain of evolution than humans, and snorted. "Something our eldest brother, most of our nephews, and our niece could stand to learn."

Patricia curled her lip. "I still don't want to believe Mom was right about them. Most of them are centuries old. After all that time, and because the Dwarf in the Flask was born from the Truth, you would think they would have learned their belief they're superior to natural humans because they're made up differently than humans, have different abilities, and our stepbrother was born with innate knowledge of the Truth makes them no less depraved than any racist human bigot, or any human who thinks he or she is superior to non-human animals. It's embarrassing to have relatives like them in our family."

"Tell me about it," Joshua responded. "Once Ashleigh acquires the power to change the world, I'm going to have a very long discussion with my eldest brother. He raised his children to be no better than the rest of the filth on this barren rock, and they deserved better than that. _He's_ no better than the rest of the filth on this barren rock, and he's degrading himself because of that. And they're degrading Homunculi as a whole by sinking to the level of regular humans; no Homunculus should do that."

"I'll gladly join you," Patricia said. "But we can't be too harsh on him. Part of the reason he didn't learn is he's spent centuries bending his thoughts toward absolute freedom, and we can't fault him for that." She shuddered. "I was never fully aware of how awful it was living in that flask for all those years because Mom was taking care of us, but now that we're free of it, I know. So I can't be sure, if Mom hadn't put in as much effort as she had into finding ways we could experience life while we were prisoners, and we hadn't known she was dedicated to freeing us, I wouldn't have ended up like him. Nor can you."

Joshua didn't want to talk about this any longer. He had nightmares almost every night of waking up to find he was still in his flask, and the bodies Mom had discovered how to give them with Ashleigh's help had been dreams.

"True," Joshua responded.

He looked around the corner, and his younger stepbrothers and grandmother were out of sight. "It's safe to resume moving. Let's go."

"We should take a different route to the mannequin lab," Patricia advised him. "One of them might leave the others and circle back to ensure they're not being followed."

Joshua nodded. "That's a good idea."

.

Citrine halted before a pair of metal double doors in the wall to the right in the middle of a white hallway with a ceiling composed of pipes. "This is the place," Citrine told them, and pushed open the doors.

The chamber beyond was dark and extended into the distance, but enough light spilled into it from the corridor they were standing in Edward could see, as almost impossible as it was to believe, things were going well for now. On each side of a floor with pipes curving down it and a ceiling made up of curving pipes, two rows of bony white humanoid figures hanging upside down at overlapping heights from tubes stretched into the darkness. The white figures had two red strips running up from their upper chests, through open mouths with closed teeth, to their foreheads from double red circles with one circle inside the other, that met in a single larger red circle surrounding more white, and additional red strips ran horizontally along their waists into additional double red circles.

They'd found the mannequin storage laboratory.

"It looks like it," Ed replied, and walked in, feeling around for a light switch to the sides of the doors. His left hand felt one, and he flicked it on.

Teacher and Citrine followed him in.

"Should we destroy these bodies before they're animated?" Citrine questioned.

"I recommend against it," Teacher spoke back. "It might help us prove to the military the files aren't forgeries if we can show them the mannequins. Hughes told me the military intends to use the mannequins to inscribe the crest of blood in New Liore, but with most of the military assisting us, we should be able to prevent them from doing that even if we leave the mannequins intact. We shouldn't harm them. The more proof of High Command's corruption we have, the better our chances of turning the military against their leaders."

Edward felt sick at the concept of risking letting the Fϋhrer create more life forms like Citrine, life forms that couldn't feel or sleep or cry, but if all went well, Bradley probably wouldn't have the chance to animate them, so it wasn't much of a risk.

"Good points," Ed complimented her, walking down the chamber and looking around for anything that appeared capable of storing documents. "Now where are those files?"

He refused to even think there were no files at this point. That possibility was too horrible to let his mind process.

After an unknown amount of time, he reached the opposite end, where a single large, thick metal door closed off the other entrance to this lab. To the left and right of the door were a high number of round storage tanks filled with water, and inside each of them floated multiple partially translucent red rocks of differing shapes and sizes, a number of them with curving shapes, others with edged shapes.

Philosopher's Stones.

The Fϋhrer _was_ going to use imperfect Stones to infuse the mannequins with souls.

Furthermore, this meant the souls inside Stones _were_ alive.

Bradley wouldn't be using Stones to give the mannequins souls now, though. They shouldn't destroy the mannequins, but taking the Stones was another matter. They'd leave with all the imperfect Philosopher's Stones, and Bradley wouldn't be able to give life to a single mannequin.

A row of levers rested on a platform in front of the storage tanks to the left of the thick metal door, relative to facing it, undoubtedly for attaching the Stones to the mannequins. The platform was within easy access of an entrance to the chamber, so that meant files might be hidden in it. Edward knelt and felt around for a hidden panel that would open one or more disguised compartments.

His automail hand moved forward, and three drawers slid open in the platform, each one filled with stacks of papers.

Ed couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. In spite of the impossible odds, and his insurmountably critical flaws, had they done it after all?

He was certain he wasn't dreaming this time, but he was terrified he'd wake up and find out he was.

Teacher and Citrine walked over to him and knelt before the drawers, removing papers. Edward did so as well, and looked at the top of the stapled together group of papers he held.

"' _A Summary Of the Means By Which the Mannequins Were Fashioned, By Which We Will Enlarge Their Ranks, and Of Their Purpose_ ,'" Edward read the title.

He looked over the top paper and the ones beneath it, but with Al dead, Winry's life in rubble, and it almost impossible to believe they'd found evidence and succeeded, he couldn't feel any sense of triumph. What he did feel was revulsion.

"High Command intends for these mannequins to be the beginning," Edward spoke to Teacher and Citrine. "As they're used to conquer other nations, High Command plans to capture citizens from those nations as prisoners of war and transmute them into more imperfect Philosopher's Stones that will be used to give life to more mannequin soldiers. If these mannequins weren't a deception, the more countries Amestris conquered, the larger this legion of abominations would grow, making it easier for High Command to conquer more nations, in turn making it easier for them to conquer more countries, in a chain of growing power. I'd thought we knew how inhumane High Command was. Apparently we were wrong."

"This should make it even easier to turn the military against High Command, though," Citrine responded, looking through the groups of papers he held. "This is a much larger violation of the law forbidding human creation. We've done it, so long as we can get out of here with these files. If we show these documents to enough soldiers and officers and they spread the word, most of the state military will revolt against the Fϋh… What the heck?"

"What is it?" Teacher questioned, looking at Citrine along with Edward.

"There's a file here that isn't about the mannequins," Citrine replied. He skimmed the pages. "There's a physicist in the southwest of Amestris named Roald Huskisson who recently wrote Central Command, claiming he's discovered an 'almighty element' he calls 'uranium' and has developed a bomb from it that releases massive amounts of energy by breaking down the uranium atoms, producing a blast large enough to level a city." Edward's stomach clenched and heaved violently. "He wants to sell his bomb to the military in exchange for money and official recognition by the government. High Command believes he's no less a charlatan than they believe other physicists are and his bomb can't do what Huskisson says it can, but because Mustang stalled them at Liore, they're keeping the possibility his 'uranium bomb' may be genuine in mind as a contingency plan for carving crests of blood at New Liore and Briggs if things go wrong again."

Teacher smiled unpleasantly. "That was generous of them to do that for us," she spoke. "That makes our task even easier. They've given us evidence High Command is willing to destroy a loyal town and military base. If we reveal this evidence to the military, it will be even more inclined to mutiny.

"Does the file say where Huskisson is located?" Teacher asked.

"Yes," Citrine replied.

"That's good to know," Teacher said. "Then we can destroy his uranium bomb and shut down his research before we stop the supposed 'initiative' at New Liore. I don't care for the prejudice against physicists, but physicism science that creates weapons that devastating has no more place in this world than the alchemic research than can transmute the Philosopher's Stone or the planet's nervous system."

Ed looked at her. "But the natural laws the uranium bomb operate by are part of the flow of the universe. Those laws should never be harnessed, but how can the science itself not have a place in reality?"

"Indeed," another, female, voice interrupted from the entrance they'd walked through into the laboratory, and Teacher came to her feet in a guard position, the file she'd been holding on the floor beside her, Edward and Citrine after her, their hands likewise empty. A person clad in a brown, hooded robe and a gray mask, and a familiar boy with short black hair and an amused smile on his face; stood in the open doorway, though Ed couldn't place why he was familiar. "Those laws are part of the fabric of the Truth, and the Truth is reality. Physicists are among the most foolish of humans, but they adhere to those laws just as loyally as alchemists do. Should the uranium bomb be a real invention, the scientific practices that constructed it belong in reality as much as any other scientific practice."

Edward wanted to laugh. He should have known better than to think they might have done it. He could see no Uroborus tattoo on the boy, but his appearance left no doubt the boy was Pride, the Arrogant. Edward had no idea who the masked figure was, but it didn't matter. Even if the masked person was someone they had a decent chance of dealing with or escaping from, their likelihood of leaving here with the files had just become extremely low regardless. Even Teacher was almost certainly overmatched by Pride.

"The laws have a place in reality," Teacher responded. "The science doesn't. Science is used to apply those laws. Science isn't the laws themselves." Ed started. He saw Teacher's point. Did that mean he'd been wrong to accept the virtual deaths of countless millions as part of reality? "If a law should never be harnessed, the science that harnesses it shouldn't exist, even though the law does. I don't believe I'll be able to convince you of that, given how long you've been striving to sacrifice the people within this country, but you need to hear it."

"I don't," the masked figure replied, her voice masking her emotions as much as it had when he or she had first spoken. "I don't need to hear the noble conceit of humans," the masked woman was almost certainly a Homunculus. The masked person almost certainly wouldn't have lied about that when keeping it secret would have given him or her additional advantages. But Ed couldn't believe they could defeat or escape Pride, so he felt no more defeated, "so stupid they believe the revolution without death they're fighting for is what has a place in reality."

"Spare me," Teacher spoke. "I assume you're claiming what we're struggling for has no place because it isn't how the world works and people don't live that way and never will. It doesn't matter the rest of the world, and humanity, don't work in that manner. Nor would it matter if people _were_ incapable of changing. None of that means we're endeavoring for something that doesn't belong in this world. Even if people continue to devour one another for the rest of history, even though people devour each other elsewhere in the world, it's worth bringing about a single time they don't because preventing even just one death has value within reality."

"That death will occur anyway, though, because people are incapable of change. Say your revolution succeeds, and you overthrow us without anyone dying on any side and discover a way to hold us Homunculi prisoner so we can't accomplish our dreams in the future? The people will demand High Command be executed for its crimes, and if you refuse to do so, they'll take matters into their own hands and murder the Bradley administration themselves." Every last drop of blood drained from Edward's face. "In time, unless you take as extraordinary measures to keep our lives secret, they'll learn we Homunculi exist and won't rest until they've found a way to execute us as well, and should you refuse to do that, they'll murder us themselves too. Should you take those extraordinary measures, however, the people will still inevitably learn of us sooner or later, and because the government kept us hidden, they'll revolt and kill during the revolt, humans connected to the government and us. The only one of us who will survive will be Father, and not because you spared him, but because humans have no way of killing him. You _can't_ keep anyone from dying. The best you can do is delay death."

It was hard for Ed to breathe. The Homunculus couldn't be right. There _had_ to be a way to save the nation without anyone dying. Nothing was more horrible than death.

There was absolutely no way he could believe him or her. Ed wasn't running away from the Truth this time. He couldn't be. He knew most people in the world didn't think how he did and what he believed wasn't how reality functioned, but that didn't mean he was fleeing the truth. Edward hadn't learned from his mistakes until it was too late, but Edward wasn't every human on the planet. _Other_ people could change, so reality wasn't sentenced to work that way forever. That meant the people of Amestris could be convinced to let High Command and the Homunculi live, and a new government could ensure no one would die. That meant there _was_ a way to avert death.

Teacher inclined her head. "I'll concede that," she said. "Under the hypothetical circumstances you're speaking of. But your argument itself would just be true if people _were_ incapable of changing, and that's incorrect. People can change."

"Where's your proof of this?" the Homunculus questioned. "Humanity has lived on this planet for millennia, and for all civilization has advanced they haven't grown any wiser. Humans are still weak cowards who react to hardship by pretending it doesn't exist and attempting to escape it, and who waste their lives in an insatiable, self-defeating pursuit of petty acquisitions such as territory, or wealth. They still feast upon one another to improve themselves, they still destroy what they've spent generations creating and render those generations of effort meaningless because they're never satisfied, they still fight wars because they're too frightened of the unknown to tolerate differences of belief or culture or because they believe the pain they suffer merits inflicting that same pain on others, they still blindly run to guiding torches such as the secular or religious teachings of others because they're too scared to think for themselves, they're still incapable of learning from the mistakes of history. Or they do know better but they repeat their mistakes anyway because reality is too painful to accept. As you did when you tried to resurrect your stillborn child."

Teacher's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes," the masked Homunculus spoke. "We know what you did. Once we found out you could transmute without a circle we investigated your life to learn what we could about you, and we learned you first transmuted without a circle after you lost your baby. That, combined with the discovery you frequently cough up blood for a reason no one knows, told us what the human transmutation was you attempted.

"You knew better, but you still sinned. So how can you believe humans can change?"

Edward couldn't breathe at all. The Homunculus had a very good point, but she still couldn't be correct. She just _couldn't_ be. There _had_ to be a way to prevent something as horrific as death. As sadistic as reality was, it couldn't be _that_ unforgiving. Nor could humanity be condemned to remain a species that was willing to do what it had done at Ishval and Milos and what it sought to do to Amestris. It was terrible enough humans could sink that low. That they'd stay that way until the end of time was so terrible it was incomprehensible.

Ed _wasn't_ fleeing the Truth. It didn't matter how good the Homunculus' point was. There wasn't a single infinitesimal way humans could be this depraved, even capable of sacrificing countless millions.

"Says one of the puppeteers who has been stringing humans into killing themselves," Edward responded before Teacher could. "You're in no position to know whether or not we can change when Amestris wouldn't have spilled all the blood it has if not for you."

"Are you sure?" the robed Homunculus asked. "Shou Tucker transmuted his wife and daughter into Chimeras without any input from us. Peter Soyuz discriminated against Milos as we tricked the military into discriminating against Ishval without us shifting a fingernail to manipulate it into happening, and assassinated Riza Hawkeye without us dancing him to our tune as well." Ed started shaking violently. "Humans in Amestris are just as hopeless as humans anywhere else on this world. We orchestrated much of Amestris' bloodshed, but even if we hadn't, they would have carved crests of blood by themselves. Do you think we would have been successful at creating the nationwide circle if humans weren't willing to act out the roles we assigned them?"

"If you've heard about Soyuz," Edward rejoined, "Then you know about Mustang's ambitions. He knows how to ensure Amestris changes."

"We know about them," she spoke. "From his talk with Hughes about them in his cell when Archer was present, too. But he won't be attempting to change Amestris, will he? He discarded his 'pyramid of protection' without a second thought for revenge and hate and gave up on life. If he's your proof humans can change, I'd like to see what you'd consider counter evidence."

"Mustang will pull himself out of it." Edward had faith in Mustang. Even having acknowledged to himself the Colonel was a friend, it was hard to believe that, but it was true. "You'll see."

"To be executed as a war criminal if he becomes Fϋhrer," the masked Homunculus replied, and Edward's eyes widened, shock and new horror tearing through him.

"What?" Citrine asked, his voice as horrified as Edward felt.

"You didn't realize?" the Homunculus questioned back. "The people who committed the atrocities he did in Ishval are aberrations to a more peaceful Amestris. In a nation that values cooperation rather than belligerence, its most successful killers would be criminals deserving of death." The Colonel had wanted to become Fϋhrer knowing that was a path to suicide? _Why!?_ "Should Mustang achieve his ambitions, he won't be alive to see them through to the end. He'll have to leave them in the hands of others, and then they'll go astray. Even _if_ Mustang regains his senses, even _if_ the two of you thwart us, Mustang still won't change anything. He'll establish peace, but the maintenance of that peace will be left up to his successors, and those successors will make the mistakes of those who preceded Mustang and the nation will once again engage in war.

"A brighter future. Spare me. That concept is no more than a daydream humans have invented so they have reason to think there's a point in living another day. The past, the present, the future… they everlastingly have been, are, and will be the same. An endlessly recurring cycle of desolation and suffering. We Homunculi are the sole life forms who can rise above it."

"A more peaceful Amestris won't be a strong military state," Teacher interjected. "It will be a democracy with a reduced military. It won't be as easy for Mustang's successors to repeat Amestris' mistakes. Mustang can change this nation. And before you say you and High Command are also aberrations to a more peaceful Amestris, you'd do well to keep in mind a peaceful Amestris will be a more tolerant Amestris. That means the people may be able to be persuaded to forgive you and High Command as opposed to desiring your execution."

Edward sighed heavily in relief. He hadn't thought of that. He'd been right. People could change and death could be prevented. And this meant Mustang might live as well.

"You've lived so long you're blinded yourselves," Teacher continued. "You've seen so much human stupidity you can't believe humans have the capacity to change. But they do. If they didn't, Ed would never have learned to try to overthrow you without causing death. Maybe the capacity for change doesn't mean change will happen, but we have the potential. That means our battle might enable Amestris to attain a better future, and that gives it value in reality. So we're going to fight to save Amestris, and keep as many people alive as we can while we do. You're not going to be able to use what you believe is naïvete as an opportunity to take us or kill us without defeating us. Cut the cynicism and bring it."

"So be it," the Homunculus spoke back. "I'd hoped, as you were more naïve than any humans we'd met before, your ability to think differently than other humans meant we might actually be able to reach you. However, if you, too, are determined to persist in the folly of the selfless, we'll do this the way we're used to.

"But you should know your efforts are futile whether you escape or we capture you." Thank goodness. The Homunculi wanted to take them alive. That gave them a slightly better chance of fleeing with the documents.

"Do you want to tell them, Pride?"

"Do I need to?" he questioned Ed, Teacher, and Citrine in an echoing voice. "One of you must have recognized me by now, correct?"

"You're Selim Bradley," Teacher spoke, and Edward gasped and Citrine's eyes went wide. "What does your disguise ha–"

She cut herself off and swore.

Cold spread through Edward's veins. "Teacher?" he questioned.

"We can't leave with the files until we've captured Pride," she responded. "Pride is going to use his false identity to spread the word the Fullmetal Alchemist assassinated Cordelia Bradley." Edward became aware of the implications of that immediately, and went white. "If the Fϋhrer or someone else accused you of having murdered her, your reputation as above corruption combined with the files might still bring the military to our side, but if a person the nation believes is an innocent, upstanding child accuses you of the assassination, few will believe the files aren't forgeries. In addition, we won't even be able to alert the people of the intentions of the one called Father and High Command should we resort to that. We have to defeat Pride here. Otherwise escaping with the documents will be meaningless, and we'll be at a much more drastic disadvantage in anything else we do."

"You understand the situation well," Pride said. "Dante, the alchemist in the South who hurt Bradley and murdered his wife, is a nuisance, but I'm now thankful she's defying us. If she hadn't, and you escape, we'd have had to kill Cordelia ourselves so I could blame it on Edward Elric." There was something Ed couldn't identify in Pride's voice as he said this.

Edward pushed his feelings away as best he could, even his anguish transcending speech about Al's death. Ed hated pushing his feelings about Al away, it was another horrific defying horrific betrayal of his brother, but he knew it was completely critical he not be affected by his emotions now and take Mustang's advice about using his brain. Ed couldn't believe they could defeat Pride, but if he didn't push his emotions away, Edward wouldn't be able to give even close to his best effort endeavoring to.

He thought, and almost right away he knew there was just one possible solution. It was an extreme long shot even if the masked Homunculus wasn't the one the Homunculi called Father, given the red light Homunculi gave off when they regenerated and the speed at which Pride's shadow body could move in his greater container, but it was almost certainly their only chance, if any existed at all.

Ed forced himself to smirk. "Didn't you hear Teacher?" he questioned. "We're not running."

Then he clapped his hands and slammed them to the floor.

Waves of coursing blue spread out from his hands and sent a current of blue energies up the pipes behind the rows of mannequins to his left and into one of the lights behind and above the highest mannequin row, overloading the electricity and causing a massive power surge that tore through the wires in the base and blew out all the lights in the laboratory and the hall behind the two Homunculi, leaving them in total blackness, and Edward knew should have extinguished all the electric lights throughout the entire underground complex.

No red transmutation energies crackled at, or out from, the area where he'd seen the masked Homunculus. Good. The masked Homunculus probably wasn't the one called Father.

Aware it was just a matter of time until Pride's shadow body, spread out from his larger container, arrived here with multiple torches, Edward ignored how incredibly sick he felt at knowing he'd be delivering wounds that would be lethal to a human on someone with the appearance of a child and charged at where the Homunculus' humanoid container had been standing, listening closely. He heard the robed Homunculus running at him – whatever his or her ability or abilities was or were, it or they was or were didn't physically alter the Homunculus over a long range, been neutralized by the darkness, or there was too much of a risk using it or them in it would kill one or more of them or harm one or more mannequins – but Ed didn't need to evade. He heard the sound of sandals and metal feet moving and then a flesh body being shoved through multiple objects; Teacher must have shoved the masked Homunculus into the mannequins, where she might need to be even more careful about using his or her ability or abilities and Teacher and Citrine might have a better chance defeating her while they were unable to see the Homunculus.

Ed swung his automail blade as soon as he reached Pride's location in a feint, his knowledge of how smaller opponents tried to outmaneuver those larger than themselves telling him Pride had been ready to dodge before Ed reached him, and when Edward heard Pride sidestep the feint inwards, he swung at the container's forehead, testing the durability Greed had spoken it had.

His automail sword met much more resistance than a regular body could give it, but it still cut a little into the forehead. It didn't slice anywhere near deeply enough Ed would be able to reach Pride's true form and remove it from his 'Selim container' this way, however.

The container didn't fall, yet no red currents coursed through the air. Edward grabbed the 'humanoid container''s shoulder as he jumped forward to the side, and shoved him against the wall, then opened a gash in the container's throat, then another, then another, and then more and more, but still no red shone.

Edward sighed, and he let what hope he could feel rise. Pride's container didn't function the same as Greed's Homunculus body. They did have a real chance.

The doors to the mannequin chamber slammed closed, due to, Edward knew from the metal footsteps he'd heard approaching them, Citrine. Now Teacher and Citrine could injure the woman Homunculus.

"I see Greed informed you of our unique abilities," Pride's voice came out of the blackness, not sounding affected by pain or as though there was any blood in his throat. Maybe his humanoid container couldn't feel pain or bleed, or maybe Pride didn't care about it and it wasn't bleeding badly enough for blood to have reached his throat. "But it won't make a difference. My shadow body will be here with torches before you destroy this container, and even should you destroy it in time, I won't give you the chance to take out all the torches I'm bringing here. You won't be able to keep ahold of my true form even if you expose it."

Ed ignored him and continued to hack into Pride's throat.

.

While the red currents coursing off Pride's sibling at her knee, broken from Izumi's kick, lit up the chamber, Citrine took the opportunity and ran to where the light showed the cylinders to the right of the single doorway relative to facing it holding the Philosopher's Stones were, then halted looking in their direction.

His false personality loathed he was thinking of doing this, and guilt was consuming him, but they weren't him. There was no reason not to use the Stone because of those emotions.

He wasn't sure he should do this for other reasons, however. Ed would have looked after him for all these years even if Ed had known Citrine wasn't his brother. If he used the Stone, he'd be betraying Ed in countless ways. Citrine would be risking Ed's dream of a revolt without anyone dying, he'd be risking making Ed an accomplice to murder, Citrine _would_ make Ed an accomplice to treating living humans as though they were lab samples, he _would_ make Ed an accomplice to exploiting living humans, and he'd be doing more.

But if he didn't use the Stone, Pride might defeat them.

Citrine cringed. There was no other choice he could make.

And Dolcetto had been right. He needed to think for himself and make his own decisions. Additionally, Citrine had no older brother to guide him as Citrine had believed he did. No one could truly look after Citrine but he himself. It was far more important than he'd thought it was he walk a road of his own. He could afford to choose his course based on what Ed preferred far less than Citrine had believed he could.

He took a piece of chalk out of the cloth around his waist and started drawing a transmutation circle on one of the glass cylinders.

.

"Your bleeding heart isn't as open as I'd thought," Pride spoke, his voice still regular. "I'd assumed you'd have difficulty hurting someone with my appearance," Edward's stomach twisted violently, "But there's no unusual restraint in your movements. You're not holding back at all."

"I've learned not to let my emotions rule me," Ed replied. "I loathe using a weapon at all now, so I loathe doing this to you more than you can know, but I'm aware what I have to do."

The doors opened and Citrine ran out, then he kicked them closed.

"I have a Philosopher's Stone!" Citrine shouted as his footsteps receded down the hallway.

Ed's insides twisted violently and reality reeled and tilted and tumbled and spun violently, but he didn't halt his slashes into Pride's throat. His mind screamed at him to prevent Citrine from transmuting with the Stone, that he couldn't let Citrine risk killing any of the souls in the Stone, but Ed didn't call to Citrine not to use it. Ed ground his teeth. He had to depose the official and unofficial governments of Amestris without letting anyone die, but Ed didn't have the justification to argue Citrine not use a Stone after what Ed had spoken and done to him. He loathed it with everything he wasn't, and not stopping Citrine meant he was sitting back and letting people possibly die and Edward's hopes of a revolution where no one died might have been crushed.

But Ed couldn't stop Citrine. That would make him even more of a hypocrite than he already was. Edward couldn't try to convince Citrine not to use a Stone for the sake of preventing others from becoming victims when Ed was willing to let Citrine use the Stone to save himself. Despite how much Edward now loathed the concept of death, in spite of how Teacher was right, people could change and murder could be stopped without more murder, after all their effort, all their planning, all their waiting, after Ed had learned how horrific death genuinely was, and after how close they'd come to accomplishing what should have been impossible, in the end Ed was going to have to abandon his hopes of a coup without murder and risk people dying without saying a single word or making a single motion to prevent it from failing.

It wasn't over. He hadn't failed. In this, he'd been correct. There'd never been a chance at success to begin with. All he could do was try his hardest in an almost certainly futile effort to prevent anyone else from dying.

If they won this way, no matter what happened to the souls in the Stone, they'd become even more what they strove against to accomplish what they were fighting for. Even if no souls died, they'd still be treating others like laboratory samples and exploiting others. But Ed had never truly had the option of not letting others kill people. Not when he'd been treating Citrine as someone he wasn't.

 _That's it. That's the way. Stop living in these drugged up hallucinations as you've stopped living in the others. Put an end to all your dreaming. You know better than to dream now. No matter how sweet, all dreams must eventually fade into the harsh, unforgiving light of day._

Edward suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes closed and continued slicing into Pride's 'Selim container''s neck.

For what it was worth, Ed knew, they at least had a better chance of winning this now. He was aware what Citrine was going to do. Citrine must be going to carry the Stone far enough away from this place he could shine transmutation light, then open holes in the floor and ceiling and fill the hallways on this level and the ones above and below them with snow for a good distance. If he filled all the approaches to this location in time, Pride's sadow body wouldn't be able to bring any torches near enough to strike; even if Pride covered all but one of the torches so he could extend his body out from it, he wouldn't be able to move through all that snow without bringing the torch into it, extinguishing it, and then using up his other torches.

If this worked, Ed would have enough time to destroy Pride's humanoid container, and then he could prevent Pride from attacking them until they were out of his larger container by putting Pride in his pocket where the Homunculus couldn't see where they were going and taking a random route through the snow-filled corridors until Pride lost track of where they were.

Concern filled him, though. He was aware how good Teacher was, he knew the Homunculi wanted her alive, and he knew the darkness was interfering with the other Homunculus' ability to hurt Teacher as much as it was impairing Teacher's ability to hurt the Homunculus, but Teacher was still in total blackness. Teacher might need Citrine to have a decent chance of defeating the Homunculus.

But, since Ed couldn't stop Citrine from transmuting with the Stone, they had to risk it. This was their best chance, if not their sole one.

He sliced into Pride's throat again and again, as fast as Edward could, until exhaustion caused his breathing to become heavier and his alertness to lessen, and still he cut and cut. He ignored everything that told him a murderous hindrance such as him could never accomplish anything, he might have failed at overthrowing Amestris' leaders without anyone dying so even if he won the victory would be meaningless, he could never protect anyone, he could never take care of anyone, he could never save anyone. He had a chance at winning, so he had to defeat the elder Homunculus. Winry and countless others were counting on him.

He _had_ to win.

The air became colder, and he kept swinging.

He sliced and sliced, and then Pride shifted minutely beneath his hold, and Edward knew the Homunculus was becoming uncertain his shadow body could reach this place in time before Citrine finished blocking his routes here.

Edward swung his sword–

Then red light was shining in the corridor and black tendrils resembling the oily black arms that dwelt within the Portal of Truth seized his left arm and automail arm and wrenched his hand off Pride's shoulder and his blade back, then hurled him into the opposite wall hard. As Ed's mind screamed in denial and the back of his head struck the wall forcefully and stars exploded before his vision and two figures began to rise up from the now stable floor in playing red light, one emerging from the floor itself and the other forming out of water, Pride rose and the shadows emerging from behind the Homunculus sliced into the double doors nearby, shredding them to pieces. Edward was getting to his feet as fast as he could after the impact the back of his head had taken, but Pride was now looking into the mannequin laboratory, and more tendrils shot into the papers on the floor and the drawers, tearing everything in them to bits.

Edward suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

He ran at Pride, and Teacher had stopped fighting the other Homunculus to sprint at Pride, but cords of shadow launched at Teacher and forced her to hurl herself into the mannequins, and simultaneously other cords cut into the floor behind Pride and in front of him and behind him, and Edward knew they were cutting through floors further down as well. At the same time other protrusions of shadow slashed into the pipes comprising the ceiling, and Edward felt himself being grabbed and lifted up by another set of protrusions. The red light vanished and the floor rose up to meet Ed, but he heard the sound of the floor and ceiling in front of him collapsing and the floors further down collapsing, and he knew Pride was gone.

There was the sound of running footsteps and a falling body, and Edward was aware the robed Homunculus had pursued Pride into the hole.

There was no point moving. Ed's hopes of saving Amestris without anyone else dying had just been shattered too for sure. People were going to die now whether he saved Amestris or not.

"You've got to be kidding me," an unfamiliar boy child's voice said disgustedly. "We at last meet these offshoots of our family, and _he's_ here."

"That's life," another voice responded, and Ed lost the ability to breathe.

 _Al's garb and shoes were empty he'd been erased from existence Mom was blacker than the most lightless void infinitely darker than the void the agony wiped out everything he'd wholly destroyed everyone and everything he loved most now everyone everyone everyone_ everyone _he'd killed Mom he'd erased Al Al was gone now as well he'd erased Al Al was gone now too his brother had been wiped from existence it was all his fault this was all his fault all his fault all his fault_ all his fault _he never should have thought of attempting human transmutation he never should have talked about it with Al he'd wiped Al from reality now as well because he'd been so stupid and arrogant he'd wiped Al from existence he'd wiped Al from existence he'd wiped Al from existence_ he'd wiped Al from existence

Ed regained awareness of where he was and what was going on and shoved the memories away, struggling desperately not to throw up and climbing to his feet swiftly and taking a guard position. He _couldn't_ lose awareness of what was real, no matter _what_ he was faced with! He _had_ to be able to fight his hardest!

He opened his mouth, but no words would come out, so he waited for a long time, then attempted to speak again.

"Who… who are you?" he asked. "Is one of you Envy? Is this a trick?"

The inexpressibly agonizingly familiar woman's voice laughed. "Not at all," she responded, "But I don't blame you for assuming I am. I'll give you proof I'm not shortly, once there's a better chance Pride's far enough away he can't see the transmutation light."

That worried Edward. If the woman was telling the truth, that might mean other people who weren't allied with Ed knew about the Homunculi and were opposing them. And if it did, that might mean these people's motives for opposing the Homunculi weren't good ones and their intentions might be amoral, perhaps as amoral as those of the one called Father.

"We're waiting," Teacher's voice came from the doorway. "But don't make any stupid movements if you don't want to be hurt."

"Don't worry, Grammy," the boy spoke, and Ed could almost see Teacher's eyes widen slightly. "We're not here to fight you. We just wanted to meet you."

"Then start the introductions by telling me why you addressed me with that name," Teacher said.

"When we can see each other," the woman's voice spoke back. "Be patient."

Teacher didn't respond, and Ed waited, doing his best to keep the realistic memories of Al's empty clothes and shoes and Mom's black form away.

After an unknown amount of time had passed, red currents ran out from where the woman had spoken, over the floor and walls and ceiling of the hallway, through the holes in the floor and ceiling, over the ceiling of the corridor above and presumably the walls and floor of that hallway and the walls and ceilings and floors of the corridors below, and throughout the mannequin chamber, and after they did Edward experienced a familiar sensation that wasn't anything physical that lasted for a few seconds.

"What did you just do?" Teacher questioned.

"I separated this area of the Dwarf in the Flask's base from Pride's greater container," the woman responded. Ed's eyes went wide. So that was what the sensation had been. He'd felt like he'd been passing through the Portal of Truth. "Now Pride won't be able to assault us here without bringing Selim back to this place."

"How did you do _that_?" Edward asked. "Who _are_ you?"

In reply, more red crackled out over the floor from where the woman's voice was coming and Edward heard the sound of something rising out of the floor. Additional red ran into it and a torch flared.

 _Al's garments and shoes lay empty he'd wiped him from existence_

Edward shoved the sight away, his heart pounding so rapidly and so hard it should have broken out of his ribcage and chest.

For before him, wearing a brown dress and with green eyes and chestnut brown hair falling down behind her back and over the right side of her face, stood the smiling figure of his mother.

.

"You must make a decision that will define who you are."-Wilhelm

XENOSAGA: Episode 3:

ALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA


	18. Created Family

.

 **CHAPTER 18:**

 **CREATED FAMILY**

.

 _Al's clothes and shoes were empty he'd erased him_

The memories of Al's empty garb and shoes and the agony defying anguish and the blinding physical anguish and the life form more horrific surpassing thought than an infinite nightmare he'd believed was Mom continued to erase reality, but Edward wasn't distracted by them. He kept his guard up and struggled to be fully alert in spite of his exhaustion.

To the right of the woman identical to Mom, relative to the direction Ed was facing, a boy with long black hair, purple eyes, and a dark blue shirt leaving his stomach bare and dark blue shorts stood looking at Teacher.

Edward attempted to speak, but again no words came out. He waited several seconds and opened his mouth once more. "I believe you're not Envy," he addressed the woman. "Greed would have told us if Envy could perform alchemy with his Stone. But if you're not, what are you?"

"A pure Homunculus transmuted from your mother's blood," the woman spoke back, and Ed's eyes went wide and Teacher's did as well, her face paling and a mixture of agony and yearning and horror and hope and innumerable other emotions appearing on her expression. Edward realized why and his mind lost the ability to process thought. He was aware on the edges of his perception he was shaking so hard his body should be falling to bits, the Homunculus was continuing to talk, but it was as though what was going on was happening to someone else, and everything was distorted and coming from somewhere immeasurably far distant. "I'm your younger sister, Patricia. It's a joy to finally meet you, Brother."

Edward became aware his mind had ceased thinking for an unknown period of time.

He bit down on his tongue, hard, until the pain brought reality back, but he couldn't stop shaking or lessen his shakes the littlest amount, and his eyes were wet. He was extremely sick at the knowledge how these Homunculi weren't in flasks might mean hundreds of thousands more people had been transmuted into Stones, but even this meant little to him compared to his awareness he had a younger sister and his sister had called him 'Brother.'

However, though it also meant little to him compared to that awareness, he was dismayed. There _was_ a third player in this game of Stones and Portals, one whose desire might be every amount as horrible as the goal of the Homunculus Patricia had named the Dwarf in the Flask.

"So when you called me 'Grammy,'" Teacher spoke, sounding more unbalanced than Edward had heard her sound before in all the time he'd known her, "It was because you were transmuted from the blood of my son."

"Yes," the boy replied. "I took the form I thought your son would have now to thank him for giving birth to me, but you're actually my grandmother, not my mother. My name is Joshua. I'm happy to be able to talk with you after all this time."

"I wish the feeling was mutual," Teacher said, "But you'll need to forgive me for that not being the case. If you were created from my son's blood, that means the alchemist you may be connected to stole my son's blood when he was a helpless fetus. That gives me a very good reason to distrust you."

Joshua shrugged. "I don't mind," he responded. "I understand. But don't think badly of Mom for taking your son's blood. It didn't hurt your son or you at all. Furthermore, she was just experimenting," Teacher's eyes widened, and to Edward's surprise, he felt shock, "to see if a pure Homunculus could survive outside a flask if he or she was transmuted from the blood of a fetus, and when she went looking for one you were the first person she heard was pregnant because of your fame in Dublith as a skilled alchemist."

"The alchemist who transmuted you knows how to purposefully create a pure Homunculus?" Edward asked. "Who _is_ she – I'm assuming it's Dante, the woman who hurt Bradley and killed his wife? Furthermore, how did she discover how to do it?"

"Yes, it's Dante," Joshua replied, and Edward experienced relief. Then there was a large chance Greed encountering Dante wasn't why she'd rebelled against Bradley, and Ed wasn't responsible for the deaths of the soldiers who had accompanied the Fϋhrer on his inspection tour and Missus Bradley. "Mom is one of the most brilliant practitioners of alkahestry, what the people of the nation of Xing call alchemy, on the place of the planet. She's human, but she's almost as smart as the Dwarf in the Flask, and I know of just one alchemist not born of the Truth whose depth of knowledge matches hers." Ed's dismay grew greatly. "For an alkahestrist with her genius and knowledge, learning how to create a pure Homunculus was a challenge, but it was within her grasp."

"She discovered how to do it because she knew how the Philosopher's Stone is fashioned and knew," Patricia responded, "From how Xerxes had fallen, it's possible to create a transmutation circle that performs human transmutation and transmutes a Philosopher's Stone at the same time, and she knew the alchemist who had created the Dwarf in the Flask hadn't performed human transmutation to do it. She realized from these latter two things how the alchemist who created the Dwarf in the Flask had unintentionally formed him, and why, after transmuting him, the alchemist hadn't been able to learn what the combination of substances was he'd accidentally supplied to the transmutation circle so he could create another Homunculus. The alchemist must have alchemically attempted to create a new human, perhaps a regular one, perhaps one with traits regular humans don't have, by using a circle combining equations similar to ones that can pull a single soul out of a human body and add it to a Philosopher's Stone with equations for regular human transmutation. But then he unintentionally supplied the circle with the wrong amount of substances, and this enabled him to pull a soul out of the Portal of Truth without opening it using the portions of the equation similar to an equation for transmuting a Philosopher's Stone, creating a pure Homunculus.

"However, the alchemist must not have known parts of the equations in his circle could be altered to add to, or create, a Philosopher's Stone. That explains why he was unable to discover the precise amount of substances he'd unintentionally put into the transmutation; he hadn't known enough about the equations in his transmutation circle to find out what all the substance combinations were it could transmute without causing a rebound. But Dante _did_ know how to transmute a Philosopher's Stone, so she was aware if she could discover the circle the alchemist had used, she'd be able to discover what the substance combinations were. She found out what the circle was, and found out what all the substance combinations were, and studied them until she'd learned which one wouldn't attempt to form a human, and here we are."

"So that's how you create a pure Homunculus," Ed spoke. "Why did Dante take my mother's blood?"

"Dante and Van Hohenheim were once in love," Patricia replied, and Ed scowled at Hohenheim being brought up. "But he abandoned her. From time to time afterward, though, Dante investigated what had become of him, and when she learned he'd fallen in love with Trisha Elric and they had two sons, she became furious. She felt you and Al should have been her sons, and wanted a child of Hohenheim's she could call her own. This is what motivated her to learn how to create a pure Homunculus. But she couldn't get at Hohenheim's blood, so she settled on the next best thing; Trisha's. One night while your father was spending the night elsewhere, she transmuted sleeping gas to keep the three of you asleep, then used her Stone to steal Trisha's blood and heal Trisha's injury so no one would know she'd been hurt."

"Sleeping gas and the Stone," Teacher said. "That's how she got my son's blood without Sig and I knowing or hurting me or him."

"Yeah," Joshua replied. "To all of that. Raising Sis' for a time caused her to want another child, so she brought me out of the Portal of Truth."

Edward snorted. "Dante was wasting her time being jealous. Hohenheim abandoned us too. She had nothing to be jealous of.

"But why couldn't she take Hohenheim's blood?"

Joshua started. "Oh, that's right. Greed couldn't have told you."

They were interrupted by metal footsteps coming around the corner opposite the direction Citrine had run off in, and Citrine rounded the corner and gasped at the sight of Patricia, coming to a halt. Disbelief clear in his movements, he approached at a walk.

Patricia smiled when he reached them. "And now I've met both my brothers." Ed suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes shut incredibly tightly. "I'm Patricia, your younger sister." Citrine shifted in a way that told Edward that had hurt him so terribly nothing could express it.

"Sadly, you're mistaken," Ed spoke. "Human transmutation on naturally born humans is impossible. Citrine isn't your brother." Now that he was thinking about how the pure Homunculi had called Dante their mother, he became aware Citrine was his son in a sense, but the knowledge he _could_ think of Citrine as family brought more indefinable anguish. Citrine still wasn't Al.

"What are you talking about?" Patricia asked. "It's been proven natural born living humans can be transmuted." Reality vanished and became deliriously about him, and then became regular because Citrine might be Al and needed him. "Van Hohenheim and Dante are human, and they're living Stones just like the Dwarf in the Flask."

Ed barely kept his legs from giving out, shaking so violently his body should have been falling apart, his vision blurred, and tears spilled down his face. Al, or Citrine, collapsed to his knees and was shaking violently, and Edward ran over to the far side of his brother or the Homunculus, putting his left hand on the top of the figure's head and rubbing it.

There wasn't any way he couldn't be certain this was real, but in multiple ways he was even more indefinably terrified he'd discover he'd gone insane and was hallucinating than he'd been terrified transcending the word in Resembool he'd discover Al was dead.

Ed's mouth was so dry he couldn't move it, but he waited a long time and tried to talk. He wanted so desperately to believe Patricia he would have thought it _was_ physical if he hadn't known better, but the scientist in him knew he couldn't take her words at face value. "Hohenheim and Dante aren't here," he could barely speak. "That's no proof."

"Then ask Izumi to verify something Al remembers from before he became armor you don't," Patricia said, and Edward jolted. Why hadn't he thought of doing that with Winry?

Indefinable horror consumed Edward absolutely. He could see the answer to that question, and the answer was so horrible surmounting the term it almost wouldn't matter in numerous ways if Ed hadn't murdered Al.

He hadn't thought of it because he'd been blinded by his guilt and agony and everything else. He'd been so consumed by his pain and his guilt for what he'd done to Winry and Nina and Hawkeye and Mustang he hadn't been able to think clearly enough to see there had been a way to test whether he was right about having murdered Al.

Edward hadn't been able to think clearly enough to see he _hadn't_ had proof Al was dead. That Citrine had memories from before he'd had a body of armor could mean it was just human transmutation on the dead that was impossible, not human transmutation on _any_ human. Ed could see that now, now that he had asked why he hadn't thought of performing a test that might have shown him he was wrong about Al. But because Ed hadn't moved forward from his remaining fright of reality and his guilt and anguish, because he'd believed it was far too late to do so, he'd let his torture blind him, and so he hadn't seen any of those things.

And because of it, even if Edward hadn't killed Al, Ed knew he'd put his brother through six days of a living nightmare so horrific surpassing thought it had made anything else he'd suffered until that point feel like miniscule discomfort in comparison.

Then Ed's eyes fell to the Philosopher's Stone Citrine, or Al, was holding in his shaking right hand, and darkness rose up around Edward.

But he didn't faint. He may have abandoned Al to infinite horror that wasn't horror. That would _never_ happen again if it had.

"One day," Citrine, or Al, spoke to Teacher, "When Ed and Alphonse were learning from you, Ed was inside studying transmutation circles for altering stone and you and Alphonse were sparring outside. Alphonse got frustrated with his inability to maneuver past your defense and left his stomach open to try to trick you into kicking at it so he could grab your foot and yank you to the ground, and you stopped sparring and instructed Alphonse never to do that, because if that had been a real battle it would have gotten Alphonse killed. Then, to drive your point home, you kicked him so hard in the stomach he doubled over, and you lightly jabbed Alphonse in the neck and said, 'I've now crushed your windpipe and you're going to die of asphyxiation.' Alphonse told Ed about the lesson, but not the opening Alphonse had left or the specific way you hurt him to drive your point home. Is that the way things happened?"

Teacher, eyes understanding and sympathetic, responded, "Yes." Ed barely kept his legs from collapsing, and for a number of seconds he didn't think he'd be able to keep his food from violently departing his body. "To the last word."

The emptiness inside vanished, and Edward was consumed completely by so many contradicting emotions, most of them unnamable, he didn't know what he wanted to do, or even if he wanted to do anything. Inexpressible joy, despair surpassing thought, disbelief surmounting language, horror defying words, terror that wasn't terror this was a hallucination or dream, indefinable anguish, gratitude transcending the name he could still rub his brother's head, infinite hatred of himself, and countless other things.

He was aware this meant Al's body and mind must still be alive, certainly inside his Portal of Truth, taken into it as the toll for opening the Portal the Truth and Greed had spoken of, and thus Ed knew for sure Al _could_ be given back his body, but Edward didn't know if that mattered now so he didn't know what, if anything, this meant to him.

In addition, Ed was aware of a lightness inside him at the knowledge he hadn't murdered his mother or directly murdered anyone, but his awareness he hadn't killed Mom again still meant very little.

Al was gazing at the Philosopher's Stone in his hand, eyes wide in horror nothing could encompass, and Ed would have squeezed his eyes closed tightly if he could have afforded to, even though he didn't know if he wanted to. Even if Alphonse hadn't killed any of the souls in the Stone and had just used them up, he'd still been willing to. Edward's stupidity had turned his brother into a willing murderer, as Ed had Winry.

He hadn't killed Al, but there was no longer any doubt he couldn't take care of Al or Winry. No one who could say and do what he'd said and done to his brother could take care of anyone.

"What's wrong?" Joshua questioned curiously. "Aren't you two happy your brother's alive and you genuinely are brothers?"

"Yes," Alphonse's voice sounded as though his mind barely knew what was real, and was flooded with so much agony Edward knew Alphonse's voice barely contained any of how much of it he was experiencing. "But because I thought I wasn't Al, I was willing to transmute with the Philosopher's Stone, and I did. I created holes in a number of intersections and covered a number of the passageways surrounding them, and the holes through them, with snow, using the Stone. I exploited the souls in the Stone as though they were lab samples," Joshua's eyes widened, "And may have murdered one or more of them!"

"You care about that?" Joshua sounded shocked. Then he spoke, "Don't be upset about that. Do you know anything about alkahestry?"

"An amount of the fundamentals," Alphonse responded. "An amount about how to read the Dragon's Pulse, what the river of chi is, and how to apply those readings to transmute remotely."

"The Dragon's Pulse is present within souls in a Philosopher's Stone," Joshua spoke, "And I'm reading the Stone you're holding as we talk. It's just slightly weaker than an unused Stone. You didn't transmute anywhere near enough with the Stone to fully use up any souls." Edward sagged, relief transcending encompassment consuming him wholly, but though he doubted the Homunculus was lying – if Patricia and Joshua had wanted to hurt them, Patricia wouldn't have spoken of how Ed had successfully saved Al's soul and how he and Al could gain proof of this – Edward knew this wasn't more than a little comfort to Al, nor was it more than a little to Edward. Al had still exploited the souls and treated the souls as lab samples, he'd still been willing to murder them, and people were going to die now no matter what Ed did because Ed had failed to recover evidence and capture Pride. "But the chi within the Stones is just additional proof of that. Regular Stones, imperfect or complete, are usually made up of between ten and twenty living souls, as you may already know. If the souls were that fragile, Stones wouldn't last long."

"That doesn't change I was willing to kill them," Alphonse buried his face in his hands. "And I treated them as laboratory samples, and exploited them, and chose a new path through life for selfish reasons, and began to kill myself," Ed's heart stopped, "Not caring I wouldn't be able to support other people if I was dead, I'd hurt other people by killing myself, or I was giving up again."

And Ed had done all this to Alphonse. Because Ed had been an utter idiot and hadn't moved forward.

He had legs again even though he knew for certain now he couldn't take care of Al, because he needed to have them so he could move forward. So he'd move forward now, from his failed human transmutation of Mom, from the terror, and worse, of reality, and Mustang's break down, and he'd discover a way to move forward from Nina's and Hawkeye's murders. But in doing those things, most of all, Ed was far too late. He'd failed his brother in almost the worst possible ways. Death was still fathomlessly more than Edward deserved, and would have been even if there _was_ still a possibility Ed could take care of Alphonse. He couldn't kill himself, though, for countless reasons, and he had to move forward, so he faced Patricia and Joshua.

"You spoke Hohenheim and Dante are human," he addressed the Homunculi. At the reminder Dante was a living Stone relief filled Ed, but not much. That Dante wouldn't suffer if she transmuted Greed's soul didn't mean Greed wouldn't suffer.

In addition, the knowledge Hohenheim was a living Stone, and immortal, was causing a mixture of emotions, but Ed didn't care what most of them were after what Edward had done to Al, and that he was feeling this way about _Hohenheim_ after Edward had put Alphonse through indefinable torment and twisted him angered Ed. What he was about to ask was all he should care about in regards to what Hohenheim was after Edward had failed Alphonse so completely. "Are Al and I human in soul, too?" Ed questioned.

"Hohenheim's body and mind became a Stone," Joshua responded, "But his soul wasn't altered. It was fused with the Stone he became. You two are human."

Ed experienced relief that wasn't relief for his brother and slight relief for himself. He wasn't sure he'd be able to call himself or Al human if their souls, and not just their bodies, weren't human in form.

He'd intended to ask Patricia and Joshua if they'd been born in flasks and escaped from them next, but now that he was thinking of Hohenheim and looking at a double of his mother, he remembered Greed's description of the appearance of the Dwarf in the Flask and his eyes went wide.

Please, no. It was horrible enough there was a possibility he might have a stepmother who had murdered hundreds of thousands of people and was willing to exterminate countless millions more, or a younger sister who might have and might be willing to, or Hohenheim had slaughtered hundreds of thousands, or Ed had a combination of the three in his family. He didn't want to discover he had an older brother who Edward knew for _certain_ had massacred the hundreds of thousands of people who had probably composed the population of Xerxes, had orchestrated the murders of well over a hundred thousand more people over the centuries, and who Ed knew for certain was willing to slaughter countless millions more. Or that he had nephews and a niece who had helped him in killing all these people over the centuries and were helping him massacre countless millions. Anyone who had done things like that and was willing to do worse couldn't be a member of his family!

But Ed knew, if the Dwarf in the Flask had taken Hohenheim's form because he'd been transmuted from Hohenheim's blood, he'd be running away from the Truth. The Dwarf in the Flask would be as much his brother as Al was.

"The Homunculus you call the Dwarf in the Flask," Edward questioned. "Was he transmuted from Hohenheim's blood?"

Alphonse gasped and his head rose.

"That's correct," Patricia replied, and Edward clenched his teeth. "That's also why Hohenheim is a living Stone. The Dwarf in the Flask tricked him into holding his flask at the center of the Xerxian transmutation circle," Edward didn't know why, but he experienced relief Hohenheim wasn't a wholesale murderer on such a horrific scale, "to gift Hohenheim with immortality for giving birth to our stepbrother, so they each acquired half of Xerxes' souls."

"We've been fighting our family," new fathomless horror was in Alphonse's voice. "Oh, no."

Edward clenched his hands so tightly the nails of his left hand drew blood through his glove, and as much as he was thankful he'd encountered Patricia and Joshua because he'd learned from them Al was alive, he was furious with the two Homunculi for meeting up with them. If Patricia and Joshua hadn't referred to him, Al, and Teacher as members of their family and they'd discovered the Dwarf in the Flask had been born from Hohenheim's blood through other means, he and Al wouldn't have thought of the other Homunculi as a brother, nephews, and a niece, and Al wouldn't be tortured by another source of agony.

But that fury was irrational. They would have been running away from the Truth if they hadn't been thinking of the other Homunculi as a brother, a niece, and nephews, unable to confront the reality, even after everything they'd learned about accepting and facing the Truth, people were related to them who were willing to perpetrate the unimaginable atrocities the Dwarf in the Flask and his children were. Patricia and Joshua had enabled them to face the Truth. Edward shouldn't be furious with them, he should be further thankful towards them.

As usual, Ed couldn't think of anything to say to Al, so he asked another question. "What about Dante? How did she become a living Stone?"

"That's not our story to tell," Patricia responded. "We'd be betraying Mom's trust if we uncovered that secret to anyone she hasn't given us permission to reveal it to."

"Then it would be an accurate assumption you're not going to tell us why Dante is battling the Dwarf in the Flask and what you're doing here in the first place, right?" Teacher questioned.

"Indeed," Patricia nodded.

Not that it would matter if the pure Homunculi _were_ willing to tell them. Anything Joshua and Patricia revealed about Dante's motives and goals _would_ be untrustworthy. But Edward was certain Teacher knew that.

"What about you?" Ed questioned. "Did you two once live in flasks," Al gasped, "And become living Stones?"

"We lived in flasks," Joshua responded, "But we're not going to tell you what we are now."

That was good to hear, for multiple reasons. It didn't just mean that hundreds of thousands more lives might not have been sacrificed, but also that Patricia and Joshua might not be informing them because, whatever they were, their bodies had weaknesses the Dwarf in the Flask, Dante, and Hohenheim didn't.

"Yes," Edward addressed Al. "Patricia and Joshua are pure Homunculi as the Dwarf in the Flask is. Dante discovered how to create pure Homunculi intentionally. It's done by creating a circle that combines equations for pulling a single soul out of a human body and adding it to an existing Philosopher's Stone, or making a single soul Philosopher's Stone like the one Envy's embryo possesses, with equations for human transmutation. That will pull a soul out of the Portal of Truth without opening it and performing human transmutation, provided you have the right amount of ingredients, and Dante discovered what the ingredients were where the alchemist who transmuted the Dwarf in the Flask failed because she knew what the Philosopher's Stone was and the alchemist who transmuted the Dwarf in the Flask didn't.

"Patricia was born of Mom's blood." Alphonse's eyes flew wide. "Dante and Hohenheim were together, but Hohenheim deserted her and Dante became jealous when she found out he and Mom had had us and this spurred her to find out how to transmute a pure Homunculus so she could create a child of Hohenheim's of her own. She couldn't obtain Hohenheim's blood because he's a living Stone, though, so she took Mom's. Joshua is born of the blood of Teacher's unborn son… Dante wanted another child after she transmuted Patricia, and was performing an experiment on whether a pure Homunculus would need a flask if born of a fetus, and Teacher was the first person she found out was pregnant."

Edward looked back at the Homunculi. He didn't want to say this. He couldn't trust them and there were numerous reasons to believe their reasons for being in this complex weren't moral, but he didn't want to say this. Patricia was his half-sister, and Joshua his stepbrother, and if the Homunculi hadn't been lying, they were just here because they'd wanted to meet the two of them. They might not mean him and Al and Teacher any harm in the short term or the long term. Additionally, while one of them had probably killed Missus Bradley, Edward had no evidence any of them _were_ bastards with amoral desires. He didn't want to threaten them, or fight them. He wanted to accept them and try to get along with them as their brother unless and until they gave him reason to do otherwise.

But too much was at stake for him not to say this. Cringing, hating himself for what this was going to do to Alphonse and doing this to the Homunculi, he pointed his automail blade at them, and Alphonse gasped.

"Brother!" he cried. "Don't!"

The blade shook for reasons that had nothing to do with how badly Edward was shaking because Al was alive and he'd abandoned and warped his brother, but he grabbed his right arm with his left hand and the blade steadied to an extent.

"I'll be satisfied with you not telling me if you're living Stones for now," Ed said. "But I can't be satisfied with you not telling me why you're here. If you don't, we're going to have to take the two of you captive." He looked beyond them at Teacher in time to see her put her hand in front of her mouth and cough blood onto it, but she nodded. "So talk. Or else."

Alphonse pushed himself to his feet on legs shaking no less violently than before and ran between Edward and the Homunculi. "We can't!" he shouted. "We can't fight them! They're our _sister_ and _brother!_ "

Ed's insides twisted violently and his face twisted, but he didn't lower his sword. "They call a woman their Mom who may have slaughtered hundreds of thousands of people. We can't trust them."

Patricia sighed, deep regret in it. "I'm sorry, Al," she spoke. "But Ed's right to not trust us."

Teacher's face became a mask, and she rushed Patricia.

Red ran out from Patricia's feet through the floor at Teacher, and Teacher jumped to the side, but the transmutation hadn't been aimed at her. It reached the open doorways to the mannequin laboratory and the space in front of the doorway itself, and then a multi-shaded metal wall Edward knew was constructed of multiple different metallic substances so none of them would be able to use alchemy to break through it rose up inside the doorways and fanned out to the sides and upward and downward, ripping the doors free of the opening in the wall and tearing into the ceiling and floor. Ed was aware the construct was intended to move over the whole mannequin chamber, protecting the mannequins within from being destroyed by any of them and keeping them from taking the Stones within the lab so the mannequins couldn't be animated.

As it did, red crackled over Joshua's left arm and it extended out to seize the Philosopher's Stone in Alphonse's hand, Alphonse now facing the Homunculi, and then more red crackled over the arm and veins rose up past the Homunculus' wrist, filling with red, and the Stone sank into Joshua's palm and vanished. Ed ran up to the younger Homunculus as he absorbed the Stone, but didn't attempt to stop him, not sure whether disrupting the process would hurt the souls in the Stone. As soon as the Stone vanished, though, Ed swung at the arm that had taken the Stone, suppressing the urge to cringe…

...And severed it. Good. These Homunculi could be hurt.

The dismembered arm disintegrated into the air and red currents ran over the stump of Joshua's arm, and now that Edward knew Joshua could regenerate, he sliced at his stepbrother's neck.

An arm of solid ice, coursing with red, blocked him, then rose up into the air as Teacher spin-kicked Patricia in the stomach, sending her flying backwards down the hallway. When she landed, however, red coursed over her and her entire body and all of her clothing became water, and by that time the red crackling over Joshua's stump had ceased, the Homunculus halting his regeneration, and red had crackled over his body and he'd sunken into the floor. Teacher cursed, then the water flowed away around the corner and the two pure Homunculi were gone.

Edward suppressed the urge to fist his hands so tightly his left nails drew more blood.

There was no point being frustrated. He hadn't murdered Al, but Edward had abandoned his brother and twisted him, so he was still so hopeless it was no surprise they couldn't even destroy the mannequins now or render them unuseable and prevent the military from unleashing them against New Liore that way. Further, Patricia and Joshua could be hurt, but there was a very good chance they were still indestructible, immortal, and their bodies were Stones, so even if Edward _hadn't_ been hopeless, they'd had little chance of defeating the two pure Homunculi without a plan for working around their overwhelming advantages.

But he was frustrated anyway. It had been almost impossible to believe, it still _was_ almost impossible to believe, but despite everything, Ed's fatal flaws and inability to take care of anyone and his ineptitude and how what he'd been fighting for wasn't the way reality worked and that they'd treated souls as laboratory samples and exploited them, they'd come _so close_ to success. If he'd been faster, he might have been able to destroy Pride's Selim container before Patricia and Joshua had arrived, and capture Pride and escape with the files.

Yet it had all been for nothing after all. And now that Edward knew Al was alive, it meant incomparably more to Ed now they'd failed – _he'd_ failed – at preventing a revolution with death.

Life was infinitely precious. He was truly aware of that now, now that he could care about life as much as he'd used to, from how he'd felt when he'd believed Al was dead. However, now, whether Amestris was saved from the end the Dwarf in the Flask had intended it to have before founding it or not, one way or another lives were going to be lost. There was completely no way Edward could prevent death now. Lives would be lost when the Dwarf in the Flask transmuted them into a Stone, or they'd be lost during a revolt. No matter what Ed said or did now, he'd let people die, and each and every one of those lives was invaluable more than awareness could take in.

Under those circumstances, Ed couldn't _not_ be frustrated they hadn't even been able to destroy, or make unusable, the mannequins after Pride had defeated Edward's plan, and Ed hadn't been able to win against Patricia and Joshua.

 _Oh, yes, you could not. People can change, but reality doesn't work that way now, and you've known that since before you became a State Alchemist. Amestris as it is now works by killing, and you've been aware of that since your childhood. Deep down, you knew from the beginning you'd fail. Do you genuinely think you truly believed you could prevent people from killing during a revolution?_

Edward sighed heavily. If he had been capable of feeling any further exhausted with Al alive, he was sure he would have now. Perhaps he _had_ known.

But it made him no less frustrated.

"I exploited them…" Al's face was buried in his hands whose shaking still hadn't subsided at all again. "I treated them as lab samples… I was willing to kill them… And the Homunculi and Dante are all family… What have we been striving for all this time?"

Ed reached up to the top of Al's head with his left hand and rubbed it again, and Edward was so thankful defying encompassment he could do that it brought new tears to his eyes. But Ed rubbed them away with his automail hand. Al was alive, so he couldn't cry any longer.

Edward sighed heavily. "I don't know. But there's nothing we can do about any of that now. All we can do is move forward, and I can do that now," Al's eyes widened, "From the mercilessness of reality and Mustang's collapse. So can you. We weren't able to move forward because we ran away from our failed human transmutation, and because we let it scare is so badly it made the rest of reality more frightening and harder to deal with. But I stopped letting it scare me, and if you stop letting it scare you you'll be able to move forward too. And we have to move forward again. From the world's hardships and from Nina and Hawkeye; we have to find a way to move forward from their deaths as well. I know it's too late, but I believed you were…" his voice broke "…Lost to me… Because I didn't move forward, and was too wrapped up in my pain to see you might still be alive, and how I could test whether I was right about… killing you. If we don't move forward from what we can, we'll repeat those mistakes.

"So let's get out of here, and move forward."

"To where?" Alphonse asked, and Ed's insides twisted violently. "I'm selfish, a willing killer, I disregarded human life, there may not be much of a chance we can prevent death during a revolt now, and we're fighting our brothers and sister and stepmother and niece and nephews. I'm not going to give up," Ed's legs almost collapsed, "But where is there for me to go, in a life like this?"

That was an extremely good question. But again Edward couldn't feel further exhausted.

"I don't know that too," Ed responded. "But we won't find a destination to travel to if we don't move forward first."

"True," Alphonse spoke back.

.

Pride's shadow body, with a mouth, flowed forward within his greater container to the front of the dais Father was sitting on in his throne, spread out from the shadows cast by Father's skull torch on the table by his throne. Father looked at his eldest son, waiting.

"You were right, Father," Pride informed his creator. "The Elrics and Izumi Curtis went after the files about the mannequins." Had he been capable of it, he would have wished he didn't have to continue. Father needed to know, but something within Pride strongly didn't want him to admit he wasn't sure he'd have been able to stop them and return from the confrontation if Dante's Homunculi hadn't shown up. It couldn't be shame, however. He was incapable of feeling shame. "In addition, this is probably hard for you to believe, but while I tore up the files, my sister and I didn't apprehend the sacrifices. I underestimated them." He realized he was searching Father's eyes for disappointment. Why? "I knew they could shut down the lights and break Equivalent Exchange with the Stones in their vicinity, but I still didn't think they could be a threat to me. Yet the Fullmetal Alchemist overloaded the power in this complex and his brother used a Stone to block the passageways leading to the lab with snow. If things had gone differently, I don't know if I would have been able to bring any torches to my humanoid container before Alphonse blocked all the hallways in time to rip apart the files and defeat them. I was just able to destroy the documents because Dante's Homunculi arrived and transmuted their bodies as they did so, briefly lighting up the area. If not for that they might have captured me, preventing me from going to Radio Capital.

"I tried to capture the Fullmetal Alchemist, but the light didn't last long enough for me to do so, and then one of the Homunculi disconnected the complex near the mannequin chamber from my greater container, making it moot whether I could reach them with a torch before Alphonse stopped me. And I didn't have the chance to do anything to track Dante's Homunculi to make it easier for you to ambush them with your greater body and keep them from reaching whoever they're here to assassinate this time. I'm sorry, Father. I let you down."

"We will have other opportunities to acquire the sacrifices," Father said back. "And I can replace the mannequins and their Stones without trouble. Assuming it will be necessary. If Dante knows about the mannequins, whether Dante wants to separate me from the Stone beneath the surface on the Promised Day, or has another intention, such as obtaining God herself, she may wish to keep anyone else from destroying them or taking their Stones for her purposes. If I leave Dante's Homunculi be this time, they may protect the mannequins and Stones for us. I'd prefer not to lose any of High Command until the time comes to deploy the mannequins, but if Dante's Homunculi murder one member or a small percentage of High Command, that in itself won't cause us much difficulty, so I won't be taking action against her Homunculi. This also means it doesn't matter you were unable to track them. You neutralized the threat the documents posed and weren't taken captive, allowing you to ruin the Fullmetal Alchemist's reputation. You did fine."

Pride felt a tension he hadn't known had been there vanish.

That didn't make what he needed to say next any easier, though. In many ways Pride was far more unwilling to say this than he'd been to confess his failure and underestimation of the humans, and he wanted to bite his tongue off rather than discuss this. But he'd thought about this repeatedly while his humanoid container had been falling back from the location of the sacrifices, and as much as saying it appeared insanity, after it had been a definite possibility Pride would have lost, the conclusion was inescapable. And it was his duty as his father's eldest child to ensure Father knew everything he needed to about all the obstacles he had to climb over to reach his dream.

"May I give you advice?" Pride asked.

Father's eyebrows raised, but he responded, "Speak."

That didn't make this any easier too. "My advice is for you to use your greater body to locate the humans and capture them yourself before they leave the vicinity of Central," Pride responded. "We've drastically underestimated the humans. If Dante's Homunculi hadn't transmuted, I might be their prisoner and the documents in their hands, and all our plans would be in jeopardy. As you know, if the Fullmetal Alchemist had been able to turn the military against us, it's very likely we would have failed to inscribe New Liore with the crest in time for the solar eclipse this upcoming Spring or at any time, and even the Briggs crest would have been in danger. Your dream could have been wrecked, Father. I was moving at my quickest, but I honestly don't know if my sister and I would have won. Humans are beneath us, but it's clear now they're as dangerous to us as any bull among human cattle is to a human. This isn't a matter of us being more on guard. We can't afford to take the humans lightly at all."

"Your pride in yourself is flagging," Father spoke, and there was clear disapproval in his voice. Pride recoiled violently, a multitude of unfamiliar sensations consumed him, and he felt tears in his humanoid container's eyes and on his face. Never in his life had Father once displayed disapproval of anything Pride had spoken or done, visibly or audibly. His siblings, particularly Sloth and Envy, had been recipients of Father's disapproval or even anger from time to time, but not once in all the centuries Pride had been alive had Father disapproved of Pride or been angry with him. Pride had tried his hardest to be an exemplary son and eldest child, and he'd thought he'd succeeded. He'd known Father might one day be disappointed with him, but Pride had believed Father would never _disapprove_ of any of his words or actions.

But now Father did, and Pride found himself wishing he was discovering Cordelia had been murdered again. Even that had been better than this. No, Pride inexplicably wished he was being held in Cordelia's arms. It was as though the surface he stood and rested upon had been yanked out from under him and he was falling into a bottomless abyss, flailing wildly and futilely for something to hold onto, and he was desperate for someone to grab him and keep him from falling further.

"Humans are insects," Father went on. "Insects can sting, but they can never be anything more than insects. Had my siblings not interfered, you would have reached the sacrifices in time. There is no question of this. They are insects, and you are a Homunculus, the pinnacle of the ecosystem of the One and the All. By believing its possible you would have lost to the humans, you shame yourself, and you mock everything being a Homunculus represents. Do not do this again."

Pride wasn't sure he could believe Father was correct he would have reached the sacrifices in time, given the arrangement of the base and the Philosopher's Stone's ability to break Equivalent Exchange, but it didn't matter. Father was infallible. If Father was sure Pride would have won, Pride had to believe it.

But at this point it barely mattered to Pride Father was infallible. All that genuinely mattered was Father not disapprove of him. Pride would believe Father's words so Father might stop disapproving of him. He'd say or do _anything_ if Father would stop disapproving of him.

He raised his shadow form up and bowed it low to the floor. "I'm extremely sorry, Father," he apologized. "I will obey you. I will never believe it's possible a human can defeat me again. Additionally, once the humans and Dante's Homunculi have departed and I've delivered my broadcast and done whatever I need to, if anything, to lessen whatever damage Dante's Homunculi are seeking to do, I will retire to my quarters in our complex and spend hours inflicting as painful torture on my shadow body as I can think of to punish myself for straying. If you have a worse punishment in mind, I will submit to it. Even should you wish to take me back into yourself and purge me of my memories before giving me new life, or should you wish to take me back into yourself and never give me life again, I will offer no objections."

"You may keep your memories and life," Father said, but the disapproval was still in his voice, and had he been capable of it, Pride would have wished Father _had_ said he was going to permanently retake Pride. Oblivion would be better than Father's disapproval. "Furthermore, I see no reason for you to torture yourself, but if you believe you need to, go ahead. Just don't let this happen again."

Pride would torture himself. Father saw no reason for Pride to do so, but Pride saw _uncountable_ reasons for him to do so.

"However," Father spoke, and new tears fell down Pride's humanoid container's face. The disapproval was gone, "We did come close to losing control of the military, so there is a lesson to be learned from this. Not that we're taking the humans lightly, but that I have been complacent. Dante is, in a way, greater than a human because she is a living Stone, so while there's no reason for me to devote more effort to keeping the common humans crawling up their anthill, she is a different matter. I do not wish to leave behind my research, but provoking her to act and minimizing the damage she does until she reveals how she intends to take my network, or acquire God, or accomplish whatever she desires, is too much of a risk. I will travel to her mansion and neutralize her myself by obtaining her Philosopher's Stone." Pride experienced something else alien. That meant Father might end up battling against two living Stone Homunculi who might have the ability to steal _his_ Stone without the advantage of his greater body. But thinking they had any chance of succeeding was further insanity. Father was infallible. No one could defeat him. "Alert Wrath, so he can inform the soldiers down there to let me through."

"Your will, Father."

.

Winry's face was buried in her pillow, her mind submerged in a memory of building an igloo with Ed and Al, when someone knocked on the door. She raised her head, rubbed her tears from her face and eyes, and looked at it.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened, and to her surprise, it was Sheska who walked inside.

Desperate hope rose, and Winry sat up.

"Are Ed, Citrine, and Julia back from their journeys already?" Winry questioned.

"No," Sheska replied, and Winry fought to keep her face from showing her disappointment. Sheska looked nervous, and clasped her hands, fidgeting them. "I'm here because I want to know if there's anything I can do to help with whatever's bothering all of you." Then she appeared sheepish. "And also, my curiosity is killing me. You keep calling Alphonse 'Citrine' now. I know it isn't my place to ask, and I'm prying, but I'm hoping, since I want to help, there's no harm asking. So, would you be willing to tell me what's going on, please?"

Winry didn't want to violate Ed's and Citrine's privacy, but she knew she needed all the help she could get if she was going to have a real chance of stopping Ed from killing himself. So she forced herself to smile and spoke, "I'll tell you." Delight appeared on Sheska's face before she masked it. "I need your help.

"Alchemy follows the Law of Equivalent Exchange. You can't gain anything through transmutation without giving up something of equal value. Years ago, Ed and Al defied this law and tried to resurrect their dead mother, but because nothing matches the value of a human soul, Ed lost his left leg in the transmutation and Al…" She rubbed away more tears, "…Was killed." Sheska's mouth opened and a hand flew to it. "Ed gave up his right arm to try to get him back and we'd thought he'd succeeded partially, attaching Al's soul to the suit of armor you've seen with Ed and giving him a body that couldn't feel, but we were wrong. Ed recently discovered human transmutation can't be done. He didn't save Al, he created an artificial human known as a Homunculus within the armor. But we thought the soul within the armor had been Al all these years. Because the soul acted like Al and had Al's memories from before the human transmutation. So we'd been calling him Al. But now that we know he's not Al, we had to give him a new name."

Sheska looked confused. "How could he not be Alphonse if he has Alphonse's memories?"

"Ed infused Citrine with them when he created Citrine," Winry told her. "Ed created Citrine with a transmutation circle drawn from Ed's blood, so that gave Citrine Ed's memories of Al, and thus Al's memories."

"I can't believe that," Sheska spoke, and Winry frowned. Sheska didn't know Ed well. Who was she to doubt Ed's knowledge of alchemy, and demean how much Al's death meant by saying it hadn't happened?

Sheska saw the look on Winry's face and her eyes widened. "Don't take this the wrong way," she said hurriedly. "I'm not doubting Edward's genius. I know how smart he is. I know he became a State Alchemist when he was twelve years old. But anyone can make mistakes, and I know from personal experience memory is too detailed for him to have given the person you call Citrine complete memories from before they did their transmutation by giving 'Citrine' what Ed believed Alphonse remembered. I have an eidetic memory."

Winry lost the ability to breathe, started shaking beyond extremely violently, and more tears came to her eyes, desperate hope consuming her absolutely.

"If the person you think is Citrine wasn't Alphonse," Sheska continued, "His memories of the times before the transmutation would lack a number of clear details. He wouldn't be able to remember the way the things he stood on felt, or, if Alphonse can't eat as a suit of armor, he wouldn't be able to remember the way things tasted when he'd eaten something. Edward doesn't know those specifics of his brother's memories, so he wouldn't have been able to give them to Alphonse. Things don't feel the same or taste the same to everyone, so Edward couldn't have known specifically how things felt or tasted to Alphonse. Citrine's mind could have filled in the blanks from other things he'd touched if he'd felt things before, but if Citrine is really Citrine, he's never _had_ the sense of touch in his life. His mind has nothing to reference to determine how things he's touched feel. Further, even if his mind did have something to reference, those filled-in blanks wouldn't have the detail memories of things he actually experienced do. Nor would any of his memories. Edward can't know any specifics of what his brother experienced. Perception is subjective; give different people the same situation and you'll get different responses from every single individual willing to let the world see he or she thinks for himself or herself.

"If Citrine was Citrine, he'd have noticed this lack of clear detail in his memory a long time ago."

Winry didn't have an eidetic memory, but she knew from how her own memory worked Sheska was right. And that meant…

She got to her feet, barely registering she was moving, tears streaming down her face for an entirely different reason now, walked up to Sheska, and threw her arms around the other girl, pulling her close. "Thank you!" she cried. Al was alive! Ed wouldn't try to kill himself even if Winry couldn't convince him not to, and wouldn't be lost to total despair! "Sheska, you're a wonder!"

Sheska awkwardly held Winry back. "I'm nothing of the sort," she responded. "I'm a scatterbrain, a chatterbox, I've never been able to keep a job in my life, and I've never been able to provide for my mother. I'm a pathetic mess."

"Not with a memory like that you're not," Winry shook her head. "It has a bottomless wellspring of gifts to offer other people. It already has! You just showed us much of our pain is groundless, and may have saved Ed from committing suicide!"

Why couldn't Winry have discussed this with Sheska _before_ Ed and Al had left for Central!? Why couldn't Sheska have been with them when Ed had returned from Resembool!?

Then the coldest ice spread through Winry's veins as realized those questions had answers.

If Winry hadn't locked herself in her room and tried so hard to avoid Al, she might have befriended Sheska and Sheska _might_ have been with them when Ed had returned, or Winry might have talked about this with Sheska before Ed had left! Ed and Al had gone through days and nights of an infinite nightmare, and were going to go through who knew how many more before they returned here and she could tell them Citrine was Al, Winry might have been able to prevent them from living if she hadn't tried to remove herself from the brothers' lives!

New tears fell down her cheeks, and they were one of the farthest things from tears of happiness now. Winry _had_ failed Ed and Al again, and just as horribly as she'd failed Ed by forgetting to install his elbow screw!

 _I_ told _you there's no way to keep them safe from yourself._ Now _do you believe me?_

Winry squeezed her eyes shut extremely tightly. Yes.

But it didn't matter now if she _would_ have been able to protect them by removing herself from their lives. After what doing so had caused, she couldn't go back to doing that now that Ed wouldn't need her as much again. Distancing herself from them hurt them as terribly as not distancing herself from them did, and it was worrying Al more than not keeping away from them would, so she'd have to go back to spending time with them.

She wanted to stick her fingers down her throat, trigger her gag reflex, and throw up at the relief that consumed her. It meant _nothing_ whether they were with her! What mattered was there was a far greater chance she'd kill them now, by making another careless mistake or by attacking them with a weapon, and there wasn't a single thing she could do to protect them from it!

Perhaps she _should_ kill herself. She knew that wasn't the solution and she didn't want to die at all, but if she was going to hurt them no matter what she did, maybe it was best she take the option that would, relatively, cause them the least amount of pain. She didn't want to hurt them at all, but when every choice she made would take her down a trail that would critically harm them and she was a mortal threat to them every second she was alive, what other options were there?

Yes. That was the path she had to take. She wasn't the least amount suicidal, but Ed's and Al's lives were more important than her own, and she was a fatal danger to them every instant she breathed. She wouldn't take her life until she'd spent a few weeks searching for a road she might not have seen, in the miniscule chance there _was_ a way she could protect them without hurting them, but if she couldn't discover anything, she'd sacrifice her life.

"Winry?" Sheska asked concernedly.

Winry opened her eyes, pulled away from Sheska, and released her. "This is something I don't want to talk about," she responded.

She rubbed her face and eyes clear of tears and attempted to still her shaking until she succeeded, then waited until reality returned and forced herself to smile. Since she was going to be spending time with Ed and Al again, she should befriend Sheska now as she should have before.

She walked over to her bed, sat down on it, and patted the bed next to her, smile still on her face. "I'd prefer to talk about you. I should have gotten to know you days ago. So would you like to sit down and tell me what your favorite book or books are, and why it or they is or are your favorite or favorites?"

.

Alphonse opened the barred gate to the alleyway, and walked back into it.

Julia looked over from where she was talking with Sig and smiled a fake smile. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"We failed," Brother – Al wondered if being able to think of him that way would feel less wonderful surpassing the word as long as he lived – replied. Julia's mouth opened, and Sig's face showed dismay. "We found the mannequins and the evidence we were searching for, but one of the children of the one called Father wrecked it. Then two Homunculi working for a third player in this mess sealed us out of the laboratory where the mannequins are waiting to be animated, preventing us from taking them out of the picture by destroying them or taking the Stones stored with them."

A mixture of emotions appeared on Julia's face.

Then Brother smiled, and it wasn't entirely forced. "But the third player showed me how we could prove whether or not the person in armor was Al or Citrine; by asking Teacher to verify a memory the person in armor had I didn't. And I was wrong." Julia's eyes widened, and she gave Alphonse a true smile, though a pained one. Al suppressed the urge to cringe at the pain in her smile. He knew it was his fault. It was hurting Julia he'd discovered he did have a brother when her brother had been forever taken from her. "The person in armor _is_ Al."

Julia turned to Alphonse. "That's wonderful," she spoke. "I'm so glad you do have a brother, and you are the person you thought you were."

Al wanted to say he _wasn't_ the person he'd thought he was any more, after the choices he'd made and what he'd been willing to do, so she shouldn't see it as wonderful. But Julia had, and would have, no reason to believe he and his brother were upset for any other reasons than the ones she already knew of, what they'd gone through since Brother had made the mistake of believing Al was dead, their failure, and what they were going to tell her about the Homunculi's relationship to them. He could spare her this burden without causing her to worry more.

Brother looked him in the eyes. "And you _are_ the person you thought you were," he said, and Al suppressed the urge to wince. So much for sparing Julia. "It doesn't matter you used the Stone," Julia made her face a mask, "And were willing to kill the souls in it even though you didn't, or selfishly chose to take a path that hurt you less, or selfishly chose to commit suicide. You had every reason to make those choices. You were hurting, and you didn't have the person you've been all these years to look to as a signpost for what path to take. I _do_ understand what that was like, since you talked to Teacher about it. So I know you're not at fault, because you thought you weren't Al and so you needed to develop a new personality and moral code. Further, I know now any time you did talk or act as selfless as Al was because you had nothing else to talk or act from; I'm saying this fully aware Granny was wrong about you and you weren't a martyr. I'm not saying this because I think you were as compassionate a person as Al is even when you thought you weren't Al, so I can accept your mistakes because you were still as kind. I'm saying this fully aware you weren't as compassionate a person, and accepting them anyway. I'm saying this and accepting them because _they weren't your fault_."

"But you weren't the only one who wasn't moving forward," Alphonse replied. "If I'd moved forward sooner I might have thought of the things you didn't."

"Can you be sure?" his brother asked back. "Can you be sure you wouldn't have been so frightened you weren't Alphonse Elric you wouldn't have thought of them?"

That was a good question. But it didn't matter. "No," Al replied. "But then it would have been my fault because I would have been a coward."

"You're letting your guilt cloud your judgment," Teacher interjected, and again Al was consumed by guilt for not thinking of her as his stepmother now, given his relationship to Joshua. But that would have been presumptuous of him, as it would be presumptuous of him to ask Teacher if she wanted him to think of her as his stepmother now, so soon after she'd discovered she had a grandchild, so he couldn't. "You know you wouldn't have been a coward if that had happened. Cowardice is when you choose your course based on the fear of something you don't have any valid reason to be afraid of. When you have a very good reason to be frightened and let that fear interfere with your ability to think, you're no coward. You're an ordinary flawed human."

Teacher had a point. But even that didn't matter. "But that's not the way things happened," Alphonse spoke back. "I _didn't_ move forward, and as long as the possibility exists I wouldn't have made the mistakes I did if I had moved forward, I have to take responsibility for them. Even if I was sure I wouldn't have made those mistakes I have to take responsibility for them. They were my choices, and how I thought. It doesn't matter why I thought those ways and made those choices. What matters is I did."

Teacher's face became a mask and she didn't talk further. Nor did Brother. Alphonse sighed heavily in relief. He didn't want to argue this. He knew who was at fault, and he was incomparably more exhausted now than he'd been even before, so he didn't want to quarrel about it. He wanted this to end. What he'd found out he'd done, to Brother and everyone else and the souls in the Stone and by himself, and been willing to do, in his eldest brother's complex were the final straws. He wanted to walk away from all this, find somewhere isolated where he'd never have to talk to anyone or otherwise interact with reality again, and sit down somewhere and stay there forever.

But he had to take care of Brother, and Winry, and Julia, and Al couldn't run away any more. And after having given up a second time, he could give up on believing there was more than a thread of a chance he could save Brother and Winry and Julia and the people within Amestris even less now than he could have before, if that was possible. Nor could he do nothing and possibly cause another Nina. So Alphonse couldn't end this. Still, he didn't want to argue.

He knew now he hadn't killed Mom by restoring her to life in a flawed body, but as lighter as that awareness made him, that was very little comfort.

He looked at his brother, searching his face for evidence Brother's attempt to convince him Al hadn't changed meant his brother now believed there were things that could be spoken about any suffering, but Alphonse found none. Brother had almost certainly just argued in the hopes, if Al was moving forward, Brother had a chance of causing him to feel better now.

That was almost certainly why Teacher had spoken herself.

Brother did talk more. "Did you stop running?" he questioned.

"Yes," Al replied. He'd spent much of the return journey through his oldest brother's complex remembering the sights of Brother bleeding from the stumps of his right arm and left leg, and the pitch black thing he'd believed was Mom lying motionlessly and unimaginably deformed in a pool of spreading blood, until they had become less torturous. When they had, a lot of the rest of his fear of reality and pain had greatly lessened, too, and he was now certain he'd learned to face and accept the Truth. He still was a spiritually deformed fetus who hadn't even become an infant, for he hadn't learned to accept the truth sooner even after what not doing so had resulted in, and he hadn't even learned to face it despite what not facing it had caused, but he knew he was facing and accepting it now, and reality wasn't as frightening, or worse, or tormenting.

Furthermore, Brother had been correct. Al was now sure he had legs even though he didn't know if he could take care of Brother, because he had to possess them to move forward, so he could. Alphonse didn't know where there was to go, or how to move forward from Nina's and Hawkeye's deaths, and if he could move forward from his murder of Hawkeye, the guilt consuming him he was eager to know whether his body still existed, when that shouldn't have mattered the most miniscule bit, would undoubtedly make moving forward from it even harder. But he could move forward from his awareness of what humans and alchemists truly were and reality genuinely was, and Mustang's and Hawkeye's participation in the extermination of the Ishvalans, and other things. So he had to, or he'd be murderous and self-centered again. "And it worked," Alphonse went on.

Unfathomable relief appeared on his brother's face.

"What do we do now?" Sig queried.

Alphonse didn't have the slightest idea. They might still be able to find evidence of the military's crimes was in Scar's brother's research notes, but even if they did, Pride's broadcast would ensure they wouldn't be able to turn the military in general against the Fϋhrer. And even if they had been able to do _that_ , Alphonse couldn't combat his family. Winry had been right. To Alphonse, being family was another phrase for, 'I love you, wholly and unconditionally.' It didn't matter what the Dwarf in the Flask and his children had done, and were trying to do, or what Dante and her children had done, and were trying to do. Al could never hurt them.

He felt extremely sick transcending thought and extremely terrified surmounting the term, however, and he became aware he didn't _want_ to have an idea. Being willing to cut a path himself had led him to make deadly, harmful, apathetic, selfish choices, and give up again. Julia had been correct; he hadn't been selfish and uncaring before. But his decision to cut his own path had made him someone who was, so greatly he'd been willing to murder. As well, it had made him someone willing to give up. Dolcetto had been wrong. He shouldn't be thinking for himself, or making his own decisions. If Alphonse did he hurt and risked murdering others.

 _Of course you do. You've been aware of that from the beginning. Do you honestly think I'll believe you thought it made a difference you're fifteen? You've known age doesn't have anything to do with maturity since you were little. So you knew you can't think for yourself, or make your own decisions. Why did you do it?_

Alphonse couldn't find an answer.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was he moved forward and did what he knew he had to do now.

If he thought for himself or made his own choices, he was murderous and selfish. Additionally, he was a child, and worse than a child, and children didn't know enough about how reality worked to think for themselves. He needed to resume following Brother and others again, and never walk his own road for the rest of his life. Alphonse never should have.

He'd make one exception. Brother was willing to fight his family, so Alphonse couldn't follow his lead in that. But in every other way he'd go back to following others. Including Brother. His brother was an immature child, too, but Brother had risen to the challenge of saving Amestris immeasurably better than Alphonse had. Al could still follow him.

There was no other way Al could be caring and responsible, spiritually deformed and infantile disappointment to Mom that he was.

He looked at Brother and Teacher, waiting to hear their replies.

.

Ed didn't have the slightest clue how to respond to Sig.

Ed knew he had to. He felt defeated, sick, drained beyond measuring, and so exhausted it was deeper than anything that made him up. Further, even though Alphonse was alive, after what he'd done to his brother, he could just barely believe there was a reasonable chance he could save or protect Al, Winry, or anyone else now. Now that Edward was aware Al was alive he had to do it again, or terror, and worse, Winry would be recaptured, killed, or become a portion of a Stone and he'd lose her, and Al would be lost to the Portal, would eat him, but he could just barely do it. Additionally, he was certain now he couldn't take care of Al, or Winry, or Granny.

And he _had_ been defeated. Even if Scar's brother had written evidence in his research notes that would expose the Homunculi and High Command, by the time they stole the notes from Scar most of Amestris would hate Edward and have no inclination to trust him. He wasn't going to be able to save Amestris now unless he embarked on a course of action that would result in people dying at the hands of others. They'd come so far, but it had all been for nothing. People were going to die and Edward would be utterly unable to stop it no matter what he did.

But he still had to respond. It was far too late, but he still had to keep moving forward. He couldn't let defeat, how he felt, how hard it was to believe he could make a difference, or even his total inability to take care of Al stop him from doing that. Nor could he do nothing. He didn't need to avoid repeating the mistakes that had murdered Al because he hadn't murdered Al, but he _did_ need to avoid causing another Nina.

Those things meant he had to keep fighting for Amestris, even though he couldn't prevent death.

Ed had no idea what to do, though. Major General Armstrong might be able to launch a revolt, but without the backing of most of the military, the chances of her being able to overthrow the Fϋhrer, High Command, the Dwarf in the Flask, and his children, and prevent Dante and her children from accomplishing whatever their objective was without anyone dying was so slim Edward knew she wouldn't be willing to take the risk, assuming she would have been willing to under any circumstances. So he couldn't go to her. Humans or Homunculi were going to die if Major General Armstrong rebelled. It didn't matter the road she'd take was how reality functioned. Not after Winry had attempted to kill Scar.

Edward couldn't do anything that would assist in enabling a revolt any longer.

But he couldn't walk away from this, and not just because he couldn't do nothing. He didn't know if he understood responsibility to any extent, but he didn't need to understand it to know he _was_ responsible for the well-being of the people of this nation, because he was a person and an alchemist. He had to do _something_ that would make a difference in whether or not the people inside Amestris became a Philosopher's Stone.

As if she'd read his mind, Teacher responded to her husband, "Ed and Al should shut down Huskisson, try to thwart the Homunculi's efforts to carve crests of blood at New Liore and Briggs, and investigate this 'Dante.' The Homunculi are aware we know about Huskisson, and they may have heard us taking about visiting him and interfering with their plans for New Liore, so they or the military will be waiting for them at Huskisson's and possibly Kelyair and New Liore, but I'm confident Ed and Al can deal with any of that they have to. I'll talk to General Armstrong and, if she's already setting up a revolt or is willing to set one up, you and I should work with her to launch the coup."

Edward sighed exhaustedly. He'd been afraid she was going to say this, and he knew there was nothing he could say or do to change her heart or stop her. The final nail in the coffin had been driven into it. His dreams of overthrowing the Dwarf in the Flask and the Fϋhrer without anyone being murdered had been wholly and irrevocably ripped to shreds, for certain this time. But he was too exhausted even to feel much like he was going to retch.

"I assume Ed or Al," Teacher went on, "Or both, are carrying the Freezer's alkahestry texts, but we'll have a minority or no State Alchemists to teach alkahestry to now, so there's no reason for me to ask one or both of them to give them to me. So Ed and Al should just learn alkahestry themselves and develop a way to contain the Dwarf in the Flask." Edward had to believe he and Al had a decent chance at doing that, even though the Dwarf in the Flask could transmute without a circle with his body, for the same reasons he had to believe they had a decent chance at saving the country. "If we do things this way, Ed and Al won't be helping anyone kill."

She looked at Edward and Alphonse. "Or are you going to try to convince us not to embark on a path that will lead to death? If you intend to, you'll be wasting your time. I loathe the concept. I'm an alchemist; alchemists create, not destroy. And a revolution without death does have a place in this world. But reality can be cruel, so there are times, in order to shield people from its worst atrocities, we have to put aside our ideals and do what we have to do, not what the moral thing is to do."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?" Edward responded. "That's nonsense. No person's life outweighs another's, regardless of how many or how few are at stake." He closed his eyes. He was sure he'd learned from his mistakes, but he was still as much an apathetic monster as his older brother and his nephews and niece. "But I'm not going to argue. I know you well enough I know I can't convince you not to set up a coup, and I know better than to think I can prevent you from going to them by force. So I'll stand aside."

He wasn't going to bring up the possibility Scar's brother might have created a countermeasure to the Homunculi's network. They'd look into that themselves if necessary. If Teacher or Major General Armstrong went after Scar, one or both of them might kill him, and as much as Edward loathed Scar for murdering Nina and Winry's parents, Ed didn't want Scar to be killed any more than he wanted anyone else to be killed.

A human hand, warm with compassion, settled on his left shoulder, and Edward opened his eyes to see Teacher looking at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry this is the way things ended, Ed."

"Why are you apologizing?" Ed questioned exhaustedly. "This was my idea, but I didn't try hard enough. And if I don't give up enough, I won't get what I want back. That's Equivalent Exchange. _That_ is how the world works. Everyone who's going to die is going to die because of me. Could you please not apologize for something that's my fault?"

"In order to acquire something," Teacher replied, "Something of equal value must be given, yes. But you weren't the only person who has tried to prevent death. Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Major Armstrong, Sig, Al, and I tried as well. The effort to prevent death involved more people than you, so we were all required to put the necessary amount of hard work into this we needed to to succeed. We all had the responsibility to sacrifice, Ed. You're no more or less at fault than any of the rest of us."

"Those aren't the principles of Equivalent Exchange," Edward argued.

Julia made a quiet sound with a mixture of emotions, and Ed turned to see her standing with an uncomfortable look on her face.

What now?

"What's wrong?" he questioned, and Al spun to Julia. He must not have heard her.

Surprise appeared on Julia's face he'd asked that, and then she replied, "Don't worry about it. You're having an important discussion. There's no reason for you to stop it on my account. And I don't want you to. I didn't intend to interrupt. I was expressing my thoughts and feelings about what you're discussing, and I didn't think you'd hear me. I'm sorry I didn't stay silent."

"A discussion that will go nowhere," Ed spoke. "Your issues aren't my first choice for something to talk about–"

"Brother!"

Ed ignored Alphonse, "–But I'd rather talk about them than hear this isn't my fault. What is it?"

Multiple emotions passed over Julia's face, and then she replied, "I don't like hearing people talk about Equivalent Exchange as though its tenets govern the universe. The Law of Equivalent Exchange is one of alchemy's largest misconceptions."

Edward's jaw dropped, and Al's, Teacher's, and Sig's eyes went wide. Ed's mouth moved, but he couldn't say anything. In countless ways not even McDougal's and Greed's revelations about the network of Philosopher's Stones, the nationwide transmutation circle, and God had been this hard to believe. How could Julia, an alchemist, say this!?

Finally Edward's mouth formed words. "Have you completely lost your mind!?" he cried incredulously. "Or do you believe that because you think it's okay to use the Stone?"

"It has nothing to do with my beliefs about the Star," Julia replied. "It has to do with the life my people have lived for centuries.

"According to the supposed 'law,' you can't obtain anything unless you give up something that's the same value as what you want to gain. And if you do, you'll get what you seek because you've put in hard work or another form of sacrifice.

"But if Equivalent Exchange is a law and not a flawed theory, then answer me this." A deep anger and bitterness entered her eyes and face and voice. "Why have my people had to work hard for centuries just to survive in destitution and been rewarded with nothing but further impoverishment while, during those centuries, the inhabitants of Table City put in much less effort towards living and thrived in economically stable, even luxurious, lives?"

He didn't have much idea what he was feeling in his state, but reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled violently end over end, and Ed staggered back against the wall of the alley. What Julia was talking about was the most insane thing Edward had heard in his life, and it defied everything Edward knew to be logic and fact and reasonable and true. But at the same time he was fully aware Julia's words made too much sense.

"I hate the Law of Equivalent Exchange," Julia continued. "It teaches people to work and sacrifice to acquire things, and that's good, because people _should_ put in effort towards getting something they want, and not just have it handed to them. But it also teaches people you _can't_ gain anything without giving something in return, and that blinds alchemists to all the suffering in the world caused because it _is_ possible to acquire without experiencing pain. The powerful and the rich gain all the time by exploiting those less fortunate than they are and taking from them, without sacrificing anything of their own, and too many alchemists don't see that and believe the weak and the impoverished are frail and destitute because of their failings. They think the successful are in the right and the unsuccessful are in the wrong because of this 'proven law.'

"It's attractive, I know. I understand why it's seen as the fundamental law that governs the world. It paints the illusion those who gorge themselves on others will never get anywhere in life, and just those who put in honest effort will achieve their dreams. But that's one of the most insubstantial fairytales in the universe. There are countless people who prey upon others and don't lift a finger to do anything on their own who get what they want, and they bring about suffering surpassing description. Alchemists believe they've found the harsh truth of reality because they embrace Equivalent Exchange? They're arrogant, or they're naïve. Equivalent Exchange is one of the most comforting illusions the world has to offer."

Edward held a hand to his head, but reality didn't become stable. " _You're_ the one who's arrogant," he responded.

"Brother!" Al shouted, even though he sounded like he was having just as much trouble taking in Julia's words as Edward was.

Ed winced, and rephrased what he'd been going to say.

"Julia," he said, keeping his tone much calmer than he felt. "I see why you dislike Equivalent Exchange. But there must be another explanation for why predatory humans are able to devour their fellows. Equivalent Exchange _has_ been proven. You can't reshape matter without having matter to reshape. Even stronger proof is what happens when you perform human transmutation. Al and I lost our bodies because we needed to exchange something as the price for attempting to create a human. The Truth you seek beyond the Doorway actively enforces Equivalent Exchange. It wouldn't do that if it was a theory, and not a law."

"Or perhaps there's another reason the Truth enforces Equivalent Exchange," Teacher's voice sounded thoughtful, and Ed whirled on her in absolute disbelief.

"You agree with Julia!?" he cried.

"No," Teacher responded. "But I don't disagree. I've never thought of things the way she has before, but her reasons for not believing Equivalent Exchange is a law are valid. They're not things we should reject right away."

"There must be another reason the Truth enforces Equivalent Exchange," Julia spoke. "And why it's impossible to transmute something out of nothing. According to Equivalent Exchange, it should be impossible for criminals and the politically and economically powerful to achieve anything by taking from others. Yet they do, day after day. So how can Equivalent Exchange be a law?

"There's more to it than that. You and Al lost your bodies because you defied the Truth, but what about the people who were born crippled, or deformed? The people who were born deaf, or with misshapen spinal cords that can't send messages from their brain to below their waists? According to Equivalent Exchange, people like those shouldn't be cherished and given extra care by people who were lucky enough to be born with intact bodies, such as wheelchairs or instruction in sign language. Under Equivalent Exchange, those people should be given no more care than any other human, and are _required_ to work harder than the average person just to participate in a conversation, or move from one side of a room to another. I'm not arguing those lacking senses or fully functioning bodies should or shouldn't have all their needs taken care of by others or be taught to stand on their own legs and take care of themselves; that's a different argument, and beside the point. But according to Equivalent Exchange, the deaf and the blind and the otherwise handicapped shouldn't be given any extra support _at all_. The blind should be left to feel their way through a room with many sharp objects in it, the deaf should be left to struggle to lip read during discussions, those who can't move their legs should be left to pull themselves across the floor on their hands, and those who have no arms should be left to walk through dirt-filled air unable to shield their eyes. The physically disadvantaged should be forced to go through more pain than their fellows if they wish to accomplish the simplest tasks for no other reason than they were born with damaged bodies, and not given anything by those who _were_ lucky enough to be born with intact bodies that those with regular bodies would be given, because nothing should be gained without sacrificing something, or giving an effort, equal to what you want to attain. That's not the truth – that reality is unforgiving – that's making reality a _harsher_ place than it genuinely is. Are you telling me the deformed and the crippled should be abandoned this way, because they shouldn't acquire anything unless they themselves put in a sacrifice equivalent to their desire, a sacrifice that needs to be much more painful than the sacrifices people who don't have damaged bodies need to make?"

Edward didn't know how to respond. He didn't know what to _think_. There was nothing irrational about Julia's argument, or incongruous with reality, so that meant it was the truth, and he should confront it and accept it. But her truth disagreed with everything he'd learned was absolute Truth. What was he supposed to do when facing the truth, and not running away from it, meant facing the truth wasn't the truth?

Or was Teacher right? Did the Truth support Equivalent Exchange, not because it was a law, but for a reason he didn't understand?

Julia wasn't done. "My people gave everything for centuries and didn't get something back equal to what they wanted, and under Equivalent Exchange, the crippled and the deformed need to give up more to get something less. There's no way Equivalent Exchange can be anything but a disproven theory."

Again Julia's words made sense. But as much sense as her arguments made, they ran counter not just to the essential things Ed believed in, but to the foundation of what he knew was life. Even though he was fully aware he had to confront and accept the Truth, he didn't know if he could believe a perspective like that, because that perspective disagreed with the Truth.

He still hadn't known how Rose had felt when he'd caused her to doubt her belief in Cornello and Leto, even after Edward had learned he'd been running away as she had. But now he had to. For now what he'd known for certain was the basis of life itself had been shown to be something that might not be the foundation of truth.

"I… I'll think about your standpoint," Ed spoke. A voice inside him told him there was nothing to think about, he was running away again, but he pushed it away. He couldn't stop believing one of the most fundamental tenets of alchemy was true without thoroughly examining Julia's arguments for holes in them, no matter how unlikely it appeared he'd find any holes.

He didn't know if he would any time soon, though. The foundation of his reality was at stake, but even that meant little when he couldn't take care of Al or Winry and Ed had failed to prevent death, regardless of whether or not, or why, he had caused it to happen. Whether Equivalent Exchange was the Truth or false didn't alter how deconstruction and reconstruction worked, and it didn't change what he had to do, so there wasn't genuinely any reason to think about it now.

He twisted the skin of his left forearm with his automail fingers painfully until reality stabilized. It appeared as if it had been turned upside down in ways it never had before when it did, but it stabilized.

No one else said anything, so after a number of seconds Teacher asked, "Are we settled on what we're going to do from here? I'm going to visit Fort Briggs and set up a coup with General Armstrong, and the three of you are going to meet Huskisson, attempt to prevent the Homunculi from inscribing their last two crests, and look into Dante?"

Edward could barely believe he and Al could accomplish anything by themselves now with no one but Julia helping them, or he could keep anyone at all from dying, but he couldn't continue to work with Teacher and he couldn't refrain from moving forward or do nothing.

He didn't know how they could stop people from leaving Kelyair for New Liore when no one would be willing to trust him, though. But he'd have to come up with a plan on the way to Huskisson's and Kelyair. The more time they spent here, the sooner New Liore would be populated by enough people for the Homunculi to inscribe their crest of blood.

"Yes," he responded. "But I have a favor to ask you two." Teacher looked at him, but he looked at Sig. "While Teacher's at Fort Briggs, could you please go back to Carvar and tell Winry Al's alive? I don't want to leave her tortured by his death when there's no reason for her to be."

"Very well," Sig responded, and Ed sagged.

"Then there's just one more thing to do," Teacher spoke. "Ed, Al, it's time for me to teach you two how to drive a car. You need to be able to travel Amestris faster than you can on foot."

"That won't be necessary," Julia put in. "Just a minority of people in Table City drive cars, but I taught myself how to drive one during the times I snuck into it anyway, in case it would come in handy one day. If we steal a car for them, I can drive Ed and Al around Amestris."

Teacher smiled. "That's good to know. Then let's get the three of you a car."

.

Pride sat in the chair in the broadcasting room on the opposite side of the desk from a human male in a red shirt with a bald head, black eyes, glasses, and a brown, short, pointed beard and thin goatee. Headphones were hanging upside down below his ears.

"People of Amestris," the male greeted his audience, "This is Jonathan Oaks from Radio Capital. Today, the son of our Fϋhrer, Selim Bradley, will be speaking to you live. As we know, he was devastated by the murder of his mother eleven days ago, and he's still shattered by it, but after all these days have passed he's recovered just enough he now feels it's his duty to identify his mother's murderer to all of you, so none of you suffer her fate at that person's hands. His father has taught him well, and in spite of the grief shredding him inside, he's risen to the challenge of fulfilling his responsibilities toward the nation. Selim, what do you wish to tell us?"

Pride sniffled, and was about to use his years of practice pretending to be a child to cry on cue, but to his surprise and dismay he found the tears were already there. He suppressed the urge to scowl. This would make things easier, though.

"Hello, everyone," he began, speaking with a quavering voice that sounded as though it was going to break down crying at any moment. "This is Selim. I really, _really_ don't want to say this. My friends from the schoolhouse I attend will know why. The person who… who… who killed my… M-M-M-M-Mom… he's someone I looked up to. Someone I saw as a hero, who inspired me, who taught me even young people could accomplish great things, who I saw as a role model, someone who I wanted to be like. I never imagined a person like him, who has a reputation as being above corruption, could turn rotten. That's why I made the mistake of letting him into our estate when he turned up there eleven days ago, a fugitive from the military. He told me he'd heard of how much I looked up to him and wanted my help clearing his name, and oblivious kid I was, I believed him and invited him inside.

"But then, when he saw my mother, he attacked her without even a word and killed her. Then he laughed and told me I was a fool. He told me all his years of exemplary service to the nation had been so he could gain the trust of its leaders and then make his mark in history by assassinating one of them, and thanked me for still believing in him after the military had discovered evidence he wasn't the person of integrity we'd thought he was. He said he couldn't have killed Mom without me. Then he pat… pat… patted me…" Pride sniffled and then wailed for a long time as though his world had ended.

Why did it feel as if it genuinely had?

When Pride judged enough time had passed, he stopped wailing, made sounds and expressions as though he was composing himself, and continued. "He patted me on the head and said I'd made my mark in history too, as a young boy, because not many children my age were capable of killing their mothers."

He stopped talking and cried harder again, silently, knowing many of the people listening to the broadcast would assume that was what he was doing. Then he started, pretending to have remembered something, and spoke again.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I still haven't identified my Mom's killer. He's the youngest State Alchemist in Amestrian history, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric."

He looked at Jonathan, whose face was shocked, dismayed, and very sympathetic. "Please," Pride begged quietly, but just loudly enough it would sound as though Selim didn't know the speakers were picking it up and the people listening to the broadcast could hear him. "I can't talk about this anymore. It hurts too much. Can I leave now?"

Jonathan nodded. "Of course," he whispered more quietly. Then, loud enough for the speakers inside the room to pick it up, he said, "I'm sorry, everyone, but Selim is too upset now to continue addressing you. I'll have to end the broadcast here. This is Radio Capital, over and out."

Jonathan stood up and walked around the desk, putting his hand on Pride's shoulder comfortingly. Pride stood up and let Jonathan guide him to the door out of the room, but he became aware he was relaxing into the warmth of Jonathan's hand and taking comfort from it, and was barely able to keep himself from recoiling violently.

This was even worse than his initial reactions to Cordelia's death. What was _wrong_ with him!?

It didn't matter. And now he didn't just have no reason to think about it, he couldn't afford to spare the time to. Edison and McKinley had been assassinated by Dante's Homunculi, and Wrath needed Pride and those of his siblings who were in Central close by to offer advice if Pride's youngest brother failed to keep the news, and the panic it could cause with their deaths coming so soon after Cordelia's, from spreading throughout Central Command. Pride had earned Father's disapproval once, and that was one time too many. It could _never_ happen again.

At the thought of the disapproval in Father's voice, Pride found himself relaxing further into the warmth of Jonathan's hand and taking more comfort from it, and he pulled away from Jonathan, wrapping his arms around himself.

"P-Please don't touch me," he begged. "I want to be left alone. I remember the way in. Could you please let me go to my driver at the lobby myself?"

Jonathan looked concerned, but smiled comfortingly. "If that's what you want," he responded, "Sure." He walked to the door and held it open.

Pride barely kept himself from breaking into a run towards it. Every second he remained here was another second he risked disgracing the Homunculi.

He didn't know why, but he found himself thinking about Father's forthcoming return to Central, and the time Pride was going to be spending with Wrath when he reached the Central Command Center.

.

"Unfortunately, the Law of Equivalent Exchange is a lie."-Dante

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST:

Episode 49: THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GATE


	19. Dichotomies of Geniuses

**Author's Note:** Apparently, I shouldn't say I'm not going to Post until a specific time. :P Having this Fanfiction Posted and being read or looked at has inspired me a lot to continue to write this story, to the point I want to Post my new writing for people to read/look at sooner rather than later. Thanks to my readers/viewers for the inspiration.

So I'm going to Post the last batch of Chapters I've currently done, and I'll Post new Chapters as I finish them. When I get near the end of the story, I might write the last Chapters without Posting them as I complete them and Post one Chapter each week at Midnight each Saturday, but I'm not making any guarantees this time, for obvious reasons. :P

.

 **CHAPTER 19:**

 **DICHOTOMIES OF GENIUSES**

.

The phone rang, and Wrath removed it from its receiver and held it to his ear.

"Hello, Wrath," Kimblee's voice reached him from the other end of Wrath's office line, elsewhere in Central Command. Wrath had had a packet with information on his family's identities and objective sent to Kimblee after the Crimson Alchemist had reported his engagement with the Freezer Alchemist. "I'm reporting in on schedule as ordered – or, I should say, I'm _not_ reporting in. There's nothing to report. Not I or the soldiers I have looking for him have located the Freezer again yet."

"You'll find him," Wrath encouraged the State Alchemist. "I don't know where McDougal learned how to cover his trail and hide as well as he has – how adeptly Scar has eluded our hunters since he freed the Rockbells, almost certainly due to his alliance with the Xingese aliens, has brought to mind the possibility the Freezer learned shadow play from the Xingese, but that's just a possibility – but you survived a large number of guerrilla ambushes by Ishvalans during the War of Extermination. You know how to locate someone in the shadows, personally or through the soldiers under your command."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Kimblee responded. "I'll return the favor by telling you you don't need to see into your enemies' minds with your Ultimate Eye to outthink them. You were raised by masters of subterfuge, and your father is one of the greatest practitioners of cloak-and-dagger history has seen. You'll find Scar, the Elrics, and the Rockbells sooner or later. Don't get discouraged."

"I'm not becoming discouraged," Wrath spoke. "Don't worry. Actually, that's moot as far as the Elrics are concerned. They infiltrated Father's complex earlier today along with another sacrifice in search of evidence they could use to incriminate my colleagues and I before the military at large, and while we failed to capture them, we know where they may be headed now. And before you ask, yes, we destroyed the evidence before they got away with it." Hughes had returned to his apartment for the night, so Wrath could speak freely. "Not that it would matter, given Pride's broadcast."

Kimblee chuckled. "Indeed. The people have been rioting so badly due to the broadcast the higher-ups have even had to reassign soldiers you personally ordered to just report to me to guard the city. I think it's safe to say by the end of the day, Edward Elric will be the most hated person in Amestris."

"Additionally," Wrath said, "We know where the Elrics might head now." Thinking of Huskisson while talking to Kimblee, a State Alchemist who specialized in transmuting substances into bombs, made Wrath aware of something. "On those lines, I'm going to give you a short term reassignment."

"Oh?" Kimblee sounded both irritated and interested.

"The Elrics may be headed for a modern building in the shape of a castle that was built in a lake in the southwest," Wrath responded. "It's the home of a physicist by name of Roald Huskisson. He recently contacted High Command, offering to sell them a bomb he's built from a new element he's discovered, one he claims can reduce a whole city to rubble." Kimblee whistled, extremely impressed, and there was no trace of skepticism in his voice. Knowing well Kimblee's regard for those who were devoted to, and skillfully applied, their talents, no matter who they were, Wrath wasn't surprised Kimblee wasn't skeptical of the physicist. "We've thrown out his offers and haven't replied to his repeated mails, but because of what Mustang achieved at Liore, we haven't deployed soldiers to arrest him for disturbing governmental proceedings. If his 'uranium bomb' isn't fraudulent, we can use it as a backup method of carving crests at New Liore and Briggs if we're hindered at Liore's location again, or at Briggs."

"So you want me to visit Huskisson and apply my knowledge of explosives to determine if the bomb is the genuine article," Kimblee questioned, "And, should the Elrics show up while I'm there, arrest them, right?"

"That's correct," Wrath replied.

"Are you sure you want to give me this assignment?" Kimblee asked. "I want to witness you in conflict with natural-born humans, see your convictions war with each other, and see how the world changes, and I believe in giving my all to do my work, but you know my ethical code. I'll attempt to capture the Elrics to the best of my ability, but if circumstances leave me no choice, I'll stay true to the work my talents ask of me, and not the work you want me to do, and kill them. I'm not going to betray my values for anything, even the chance to behold one of nature's and history's most pivotal confrontations and the chance to express my talents without watching my back. Now that you know this, are you sure you want to deploy me to Huskisson's?"

"Yes," Wrath responded. "I'm willing to take the risk. You have two Philosopher's Stones, and command two entire divisions of soldiers and assorted others. I have faith those circumstances won't occur."

"Then I accept the mission," Kimblee spoke. "I won't take anyone with me but the Chimeras you assigned to me after I failed to kill the Freezer, though. Two Stones and four Chimeras should be more than sufficient to take care of two or three alchemists."

"I leave that up to your judgment," Wrath responded. "I await your success."

He replaced the phone in its receiver.

Wrath hoped this wasn't a waste of time. There was no guarantee the Elrics would appear at Huskisson's castle while Kimblee was studying the uranium bomb, and it was very likely Huskisson's uranium bomb was a hoax. There were very good reasons few scientists who weren't cons and frauds pursued physicism as opposed to alchemy, and the concept a physicist could discover an element Father didn't know about was crazy.

But they couldn't leave any potential resource unassessed when they had the means to ascertain its viability. Not after Mustang had depopulated and razed Liore. Even less so with one or three other living Stones opposing them, and after the sacrifices had come very close to depriving them of most of the military. Father trusted Pride would have stopped the sacrifices, and Wrath believed Father, but that didn't change the sacrifices had still come very close to undoing over three hundred fifty years of effort when they were on the verge of success.

Wrath turned his mind to attempting to figure out where Dante's Homunculi would strike next if Father failed to defeat her. Dante must know Father was baiting her into showing her hand and believed the Homunculi would try to assassinate the Generals of High Command and would thus be ready for them to make the attempt, so Wrath was almost certain Edison's and McKinley's murders had been nothing more than Dante sending the message she was going to meet their challenge. Dante almost certainly wasn't going to target High Command again for a time.

Wrath wished they could be as almost certain why her Homunculi had guarded the mannequins, but he knew they couldn't. At this point there was no way to tell whether her Homunculi had protected them because she wanted Father to succeed in his plans for her own purposes, or for another reason.

Who would she target, though, and how many of their colleagues did she know about? Did she know of Jackson, and would she go after him? The heads of the businesses in New Liore and Kelyair, even though they had no knowledge of Father's goal? Dante had proven she didn't care if her targets were collaborators or pawns when she'd assassinated Cordelia, or she didn't know who was an affiliate and who was a pawn. Would she target Kimblee? Alex Armstrong, who had been stationed in Kelyair to protect Envy's administration after Dante had delivered her ultimatum? Doctor Marcoh?

Wrath needed to figure it out before it was too late.

They didn't know when enough people would have settled in New Liore they'd be able to inscribe the crest of blood there, but according to Pride's latest check-up on Sloth's location, he'd reach Briggs in early Winter, in about three weeks, and efficiency advised they inscribe the Briggs crest at around that time. Did Dante know this? If so, would she target any Briggs officers?

Was there a way they could lure her, or ward her away, from targeting one or more of her potential victims?

Wrath smiled. Perhaps. There might be, if the Fullmetal Alchemist showed up in Kelyair. A method that would enable them to carve the New Liore crest of blood even faster, as well. That would mean assassinating and replacing High Command before they'd implemented as much of the new training regimen in Central Command as he'd hoped they'd be able to before he had to murder them, but High Command had put enough of it in place by now Wrath could trust the interim High Command would be able to pick up where their predecessors would leave off without the development of the regimen being slowed down for that long.

Something felt off, and it took a few seconds for Wrath to become aware what it was.

He was enjoying this.

What was happening to him?

The mysterious interest had returned when Pride had informed Wrath the Elrics and Izumi Curtis had infiltrated Father's base in search of evidence that would expose them, along with the inexplicable looking forward to what the humans' next move would be, but even having experienced those things multiple times now, he could never have believed he'd be _enjoying_ matching wits with humans.

But he was, and he wasn't just enjoying this, he couldn't recall having experienced anything this diverting in his life. Despite his and his family's and colleagues' skills at intrigue, the humans had proven themselves worthy adversaries at Liore, and now again earlier today. It was so unexpected and surprising it was filling his existence with something akin to vibrancy.

But that meant he couldn't think or feel these ways. Interest, and looking forward to the humans' next moves, was one thing. Being diverted the way he was, and enjoying locking horns with the humans, was another. It was disloyal.

Or was it? He wasn't betraying Father by thinking and feeling the ways he did. This was something different than choosing Cordelia over Father would have been. Wrath wasn't going to act disobedient because he thought and felt these ways. All he was doing was thinking, and feeling, for himself, and he'd done that all his life. That he was now thinking and feeling things Father would frown upon didn't change he wasn't saying or doing anything that made him an ungrateful son. And with Cordelia gone, he had nothing in his life now he'd chosen by himself, and he wanted something in his life he'd chosen on his own.

But he never should have chosen Cordelia by himself. It had led him to want to be free of all duties.

He sighed. He couldn't allow himself to think or feel these ways. It was too dangerous. He believed he wouldn't act on them, but he'd never believed he'd want to be free of the responsibilities he'd been entrusted with.

He banished the thoughts and feelings.

Something ached inside him, but Wrath didn't care. It would go away in time. Just as the anguish and aching he was experiencing because Cordelia was dead would go away in time.

It had to. He couldn't betray his creator, and parent. There could be nothing more wrong in reality than doing that.

Wrath's eye flew wide. He had no idea when it had happened, or why it had happened, but he was no longer sure he believed that was true.

.

Winry sat at Sheska's mother's bedside, Sheska beside her, telling Beth, who had green eyes, was wide of girth with long brown hair, and wore a white shawl over a mostly lighter brown dress, and was sitting up in her bed under a sheet, about how automail worked. Doctor Jectun, a thin, clean-shaven male with short red hair in a dark orange shirt and dark green pants, stood at the foot of Beth's bed, listening with interest on his face. Winry wasn't enjoying discussing automail at all, or eager to talk about it, as she had and had been before she'd been arrested, but she was telling Sheska, Beth, and Doctor Jectun for their benefit, not hers.

"When automail receives signals from the brain of the person with the prosthetic," Doctor Jectun inquired, "Does it receive them the same as any other limb does?"

"Yes," Winry replied. "It has artificial nerves. These nerves can't receive any input from outside the body, so the limb can't be stimulated from the outside, and the nerves can just receive very vague, almost nonexistent stimulation from the limb itself, but the nerves can carry input generated by the brain and conveyed through the spinal cord the same way a flesh limb can.

"This makes automail as flexible, in multiple ways, as a flesh limb."

"How does automail transfer signals from biological nerves to artificial nerves?" Beth questioned.

The doorbell rang.

Winry couldn't get out of her seat, run through the hall, down the single flight of stairs, and to the front door fast enough. She opened it to see a large male with short black hair, a mustache, and a short brown beard wearing a brown shirt and gray pants standing before her.

"I'm Sig Curtis," he introduced himself. "I'm the husband of Ed and Al's former alchemy Teacher, Izumi." Winry lost the ability to breathe, terror consuming her absolutely. Had Ed and Al been hurt, or worse? "Are you Winry Rockbell?"

"Yes," she was barely able to keep her voice steady, the terror worsening. He'd come here looking for _her_. That meant there was an even greater likelihood something horrific had taken place. "Why?"

"Ed asked me to deliver a message," Sig replied, and Winry's legs weakened. "In Central, he discovered the person with the armor body _is_ Al."

All the strength went out of her legs, and Winry gripped the doorframe with all her might to hold herself up. She was barely aware of the tears blurring her eyes and falling down her cheeks, and she shook beyond extremely violently. Ed and Al knew. Thank the skies.

That didn't make her failure any less horrific, though. Ed and Al had still lived an indescribable nightmare until they'd arrived in Central because she'd tried to remove herself from their lives.

But the infinite nightmare was over. Winry was aware the brothers were tormented by numerous other things, and she knew their discovery would have done little or nothing to heal any of their other wounds, but Ed no longer believed Al was dead at his hands and Al no longer believed he had no brother and his life had been a lie. At present, that was all that mattered.

She barely registered footsteps coming up behind her, probably Sheska, but she didn't turn to see if it was her. Winry smiled at Sig. "Thank you so much for letting me know," she spoke through her tears. "I already learned that," Sig's eyes widened, "Thanks to someone here who knows a lot about memory, but knowing Ed and Al are aware means more than the world to me. Thank you for telling me."

.

Ed squinted out at the lake and moved his eyes over the horizon as the afternoon Sunlight reflected off the clear blue water. The car they had stolen, an unremarkable light red vehicle with two front seats and a regular back seat, rested at a stop underneath bushes Ed had reshaped through transmutation to hide it behind them and to their right.

Before them rested the wooden rowboat Al had transmuted for them, one sturdy enough to carry his armor 'body,' but Ed wasn't looking at it. He was scanning the horizon for military water going vehicles.

But even after closely looking back and forth on the horizon multiple times, he hadn't found any.

He frowned.

"The Amestrian military may have fortified Huskisson's castle," Julia said, "In defensive positions in wait for you. There's no certainty this is a trap."

"I know," Ed replied. "But there's no certainty it isn't. And if the military has reached Huskisson's laboratory by now, they may have acquired his uranium bomb. That could make keeping the Homunculi from inscribing the crests of blood harder."

"It's a shame I was unable to bring my Black Bat gear with me," Julia said, and Edward blinked. He hadn't believed Julia was a _member_ of the Black Bats. "If we transmuted a tall enough stone construct, I'd be able to glide out over the lake and scope it out for military craft."

"So what do we do?" Al questioned. No evidence of what he was feeling about his words and actions when he'd thought he was Citrine was present in his voice, as it hadn't been for most of the time since they'd departed Central, and there was no more hurt in his voice than there had been since the night McDougal's revelations had changed everything, but Edward looked for what Alphonse was feeling. His brother had traded one boundless nightmare for another. Ed needed to know more about how Al felt.

Not that Edward would be able to do anything about it. Alphonse was alive, but Edward was still so unable to do anything for his brother Al should have been an only child.

But Ed wouldn't let that stop him from moving forward from what he could. He couldn't let _anything_ stop him from moving forward from what he could after what not moving forward had done to Al. Not his absolute helplessness to do anything to comfort Al, not what he'd done to Al, not his inability to protect Winry when he wasn't in Carvar, not his failure to accomplish a revolution without death, not the possibility Equivalent Exchange was a lie.

The Law of Equivalent Exchange might be a lie.

Ed was avoiding thinking about it. It was more than how there was the lack of any true reason to think about it. Doing so caused too many feelings he could do without, among them uncertainty what he could believe in as an alchemist and what truth there was to find if even the foundation of alchemy wasn't what he'd thought it was, and terror far worse than the terror what he'd had faith in was something unknown he'd experienced when he'd discovered alchemy wasn't the panacea he'd thought it was and could be just as much poison. He had enough burdens to deal with without adding to them by spending thought on something that didn't change how alchemy itself functioned, or his course.

Edward shrugged. "We get in the rowboat and cross the lake until we encounter soldiers or reach the castle lab. What else can we do?"

"I'm experienced at killing with a rifle," Julia spoke, and Al went stiff and Edward winced. He'd known Julia might have killed people since he'd discovered she was a Milosian rebel, but having it confirmed was something else entirely. "But I know you don't want me to shoot anyone, so I won't ask you to transmute me one. I know a small amount of the Water Alchemy Atlas learned from my parents' research, too, though, so if we're attacked on the lake I may be able to defend us with that. But probably not very well."

"If worst comes to worst I can close up Al's armor," Edward responded, "Keeping his blood seal from getting wet, and he can swim us across the lake holding onto our boat or enemy boats and fight off any soldiers who intercept us with us safe from projectile weapons inside him. But that won't work unless we're close enough to the lab. If we're too far away, we'll run out of air inside him."

"We can discuss what to do if we run into soldiers on the way," Julia walked toward the shore and put one foot on the edge of the boat. "If we're going to cross, we should begin soon. The longer we spend here, the more time Amestris has to take the uranium bomb."

"I don't like saying it," Edward answered, "But I agree with you. Let's go."

.

Dante suppressed the urge to loosen her collar nervously as she stood on the grass. It wouldn't make any difference. In less than a minute the incomprehensibly large cluster of chi she knew belonged to her stepson would arrive in her front yard, and for the first time in centuries she might be in mortal danger.

She'd very highly doubted the Dwarf in the Flask would attempt to neutralize her personally, but she and Ashleigh had known it might come to this, so it hadn't been a complete surprise when she'd sensed the indescribable concentration of souls, too small to be Van Hohenheim but too large to be Patricia or Joshua, arrive in Dublith. Since then she'd been waiting with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and other emotions for the meeting she'd longed for since before she'd married Van Hohenheim over three hundred fifty years ago. She knew there was almost certainly no chance she'd be able to get to know her stepson, but her awareness they were finally going to meet was causing a consuming mixture of emotions within her nonetheless.

Greed was in position in one of the mansion's front rooms, willing to come to her rescue to have the chance to see the look on his father's face if he saved one of the Dwarf in the Flask's victims out from under his very nose, but Dante couldn't let it come to that. She had to defend herself effectively enough she could convince her stepson he had no better chance than anyone else at killing her so he would withdraw. Ashleigh's dream depended on it, and she couldn't let him down.

During the days they'd spent planning and setting things up, he hadn't once complimented her again, and had remained distant, making it clear he felt no attachment to her and had just been saying what he saw as the truth when he'd praised her. To her surprise, that had angered Dante, but the days she'd spent with him had proven he possessed far more than a sliver of Hohenheim's magnificence. She'd discovered he was very driven, and very fervent in his desires, and his conviction he needed to create a new world and save the writhing humans from themselves had been stronger than almost anything she'd encountered in anyone in her life. Witnessing those things had made being in his presence and having his companionship worthwhile, although far from satisfactory, although Dante didn't know what more she could want from Ashleigh.

It had also fully converted her to his cause. The zeal in his voice when he spoke of his new world made it sound like such a glorious dream she had no doubts, even though the world he created might not be glorious, _he_ would be glorious when he fashioned it, and she wanted to ensure he attained that glory. The days she'd spent with him had reminded her just how much Hohenheim's magnificence had meant to her and shown her how lacking her life was without it, and she wanted to be in the presence of, and have the companionship, of much more of the magnificence Ashleigh possessed that Hohenheim had had and that was uniquely Ashleigh's own. She'd give her all to see him fulfill his dream.

She couldn't die here.

She found herself loosening her collar, and brought her hand to her side. She was extremely afraid. She'd thought she'd conquered her fear of death when she'd become immortal, but the mere possibility she might be about to be in true danger was leaving her so terrified it was difficult to breathe. But she was going to show as little of her terror as she could to her stepson. He'd achieved far more than any other Homunculus she was aware existed on this Earth, and deserved to be treated accordingly.

She took deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and after a period of time a ghost walked out of the woods into her front yard and she couldn't breathe.

She'd known he was identical to Hohenheim, but how similar the Dwarf in the Flask looked to her former husband hadn't truly been driven home to her until now, as she beheld him standing before her with the beard cut in a way she'd once known so well and his golden eyes.

She recovered herself, though. She was being discourteous, and although it was almost certain she'd be forced to be far more discourteous before this meeting was over, she wanted to be polite for as long as she could.

She smiled. "Hello, my son."

There was no anger in the Dwarf in the Flask's voice as he replied. "I have one human parent," he spoke. "The Xerxian alchemist whose blood brought me into this world. I have no connection to any other insect. Do not disgrace me by attempting to lower me to your level."

Dante had known this would almost certainly be her stepson's response, and hoped she was keeping how deeply she was upset hidden as she inclined her head. "I apologize. I'd prefer to talk with you. You've fascinated me from the moment I heard about you from your father, centuries ago in Xing. A human without shape, free of the constraints of withering flesh, a child of the Truth of reality itself, a higher level of existence than us natural humans suffocated by our rotting bodies and our ignorant minds, who ascended the ladder of life further still and superseded the flask that did confine him and mortality itself. You have no idea how much I've longed to meet you.

"But if you reject me as family, out of reverence for your exalted life, I won't push the issue. Would you please be willing to answer one question before you endeavor what you've come for, though?"

The Dwarf in the Flask was silent for a few seconds, and then replied, "I see no reason not to. What do you want to know?"

"You must know Van Hohenheim has been living in Amestris for a long time," Dante asked. "I've been curious about this since he first came here. If he is the one human you have regard for, why have you never attempted to contact him since he came to this country?"

"I have little regard left for him," her stepson spoke back. "He ran from me, and from the life the two of us could have had as immortals free to experience all the world had to offer, merely because I'd harvested humans to give us our immortal bodies. He sided with insects over the transcendental child born of his own blood, who gave him a name and knowledge and eternity. I care little for what becomes of him now, save that I'm able to use him to finish freeing myself from the flask of the universe. If Van Hohenheim was your husband, why is it I've never heard of you spending time with him after he came to Amestris?"

Dante hoped none of the agony consuming her was showing. "I've never contacted him because I don't want to see him and be reminded he no longer loves me."

"Ah," the Dwarf in the Flask said.

"I'd question if your two Homunculi are here, but I wouldn't be able to trust your answer. So it's time for you to crawl back down your ant hole."

Then red currents ran along the grass and a gigantic construct of rock with a ball on the end arced up out of the ground to descend upon Dante.

Dante raised her hand, red soul energies coursing over it, and the construct broke into pieces when it came in contact with her hand. Red ran from her feet along the grass, and a huge fang-filled serpent mouth of diamond, amethyst, jasper, sapphire, onyx, and opal rose out of the ground about her stepson and snapped closed around him, but more red crackled as it did and soul energy of the Homunculus' own blew a tunnel in the mouth. Then currents emerged from his feet and a number of large walls of molten gold with spikes covering their fronts rose from the ground and surged at Dante. Dante held out her hand and thick red arcing soul beams tore into the air, ripping through the walls, causing molten gold to spray through the air, and converging upon the Dwarf in the Flask, but pure red soul currents ran up his body as they struck and blocked them, chunks of the ground rising up into the air as the soul energies conflicted before they died.

Dante attacked again as soon as they did. Red coursed into the air before her and spikes of blue-white light sailed through the air at the Dwarf in the Flask, to meet a giant fist of flowing mercury that rose out of the ground in red light and shot at them. The fist continued forward, but Dante sent more red into the air, transmuting a giant mercury fist of her own out of the air that rocketed into the Homunculus' mercury fist and surged against it.

They appeared to be evenly matched, but Dante doubted it. The Dwarf in the Flask's container of flesh wasn't as durable as her immortal body, but she extremely highly doubted she could hurt it. However, she was pretty sure her stepson wouldn't have come here if he didn't know of one or more methods he could use to hurt _her_. She was pretty sure her stepson was trying to deceive her into thinking they were evenly matched, then he'd play his trump card or trump cards and attempt to catch her off-guard.

That meant she should probably do something he'd have a harder time countering, that might spur him into playing his trump card or trump cards, so she'd be more on guard for it or them.

The Homunculus stopped transmuting the mercury fist and it cascaded to the ground, but Dante kept her transmutation going. She sent her mercury fist flying forward and to the side and swung it at the Homunculus, but then she ended the transmutation and as it flew at him and he raised a red-current-adumbrated hand to, she assumed, deconstruct it, as it was one substance and didn't need to be destroyed by pure soul energy, other red currents ran through the air around her, solidifying the light surrounding her into a large, tall dais with a radius that extended almost to her stepson. Fanged serpents of light extended out of the front of the dais, reaching the Dwarf in the Flask before he could transmute soul energy over his body and destroy them, and she continued her transmutation, reforming the serpents and sending them stabbing and swinging and whirling and lashing at him. The Homunculus kept soul energy crackling over his body, shattering all the strikes, but Dante kept them coming.

Abruptly, the ground below the Homunculus rippled in currents of red, and the Dwarf in the Flask sank into it.

Dante forced herself to smile. So that was his trump card. He'd intended to liquefy the solid he was on and vanish from sight, no doubt because he possessed the ability to steal her Philosopher's Stone and intended to emerge from the ground at her position and stick his arm into her.

But she extremely highly doubted he was going to attempt a regular ambush. Wrath must have told him she could know the location of people without seeing them.

Unsurprisingly, he remained stationary underground, and Dante took a number of deep breaths, trying to calm the terror now consuming her. She could live through this. She could counter him. He was a brilliant alchemist, but so was she, and he didn't have the ability to sense the Dragon's Pulse.

Then thick crackling segments of what must be a single beam of pure red soul energies erupted from the ground in front of her to wrap around her body and swing her into the air, ripping apart the solid light around her as they did, and another segment of the thick red beam detonated from underground to uncover the Dwarf in the Flask, and Dante cried out as the segments wrapped around her swung her towards his outstretched hands, a red coursing beam that split into multiple parts emanating from one of them. She sent red through the air to create a wall of diamond on the ground in front of her, but the beam segments attached to her broke it as it reached them and forced it to grow around them, and shattered it further as they pulled her through it.

There was nothing she could do to keep the Dwarf in the Flask from pulling her to him.

She descended through the air to the bottom of the pit he was in and his multi-part soul beam cut off, and then red currents ran from his other hand into the air and he thrust it into her stomach.

Dante reacted the only set of ways she could think of gave her a chance of surviving.

She separated small fragments of her Stone from the main Stone and sent them into her stepson's hand in coursing red, more and more, attempting to cause a rebound by feeding regular Stones into a transmutation intended to reconstruct a special Stone.

There was a red flesh of light, and Dante found herself hurled against the chunks of stone composing the side of the pit, her stepson flying backwards to crash into the opposite side. Red coursed wildly into the air from the Dwarf in the Flask's hand and ran uncontrollably over his body, but Dante knew the rebound wouldn't hurt him.

She didn't care. Her heart was pounding, and she took deep breath after deep breath of air that was in countless ways much sweeter than it had been in centuries.

But she knew she might not be alive for much longer than another matter of hours if she stayed here. The Dwarf in the Flask wouldn't be thwarted that way again. If he got his hand inside her again – and he _might_. If he'd been successfully able to make contact with her Stone once he might be able to again – he'd be sure to keep her Stone in a single form as he transmuted it out of her. If he was able to touch her Stone again, she'd be dead.

She turned and, while the Dwarf in the Flask was unable to transmute as his body experienced the rebound, climbed up the chunks of stone out of the pit and ran for her mansion. She knew how long Philosopher's Stone rebounds lasted and knew she'd probably have enough time to escape, but she nevertheless transmuted giant crack after giant, tall wall of diamond out of and into the ground behind her in red energies as she moved to slow down the Homunculus when he attempted to follow her, so it would be relatively easier for her to flee into a descending labyrinth of underground tunnels she'd transmute below her estate, cover up the entrance to once she was inside, and further dig in stages as she traversed. She had to get to Greed and escape to somewhere her stepson wouldn't be able to find her.

She'd think of a way to inform Patricia and Joshua of her location later. Right now what mattered was her survival.

.

The castle laboratory Al had told them Huskisson lived in was wider than it was tall, had a mostly metallic outside with multiple towers at various heights with pointed roofs, and a large cloud of steam was flowing up diagonally sideways in front of it from the surface of the lake, no doubt the result of heat given off by machines in the laboratory below the waves.

Edward had also seen a small military boat, large enough to seat six people, floating on the water and tied to a platform just above the water's surface, when they'd gotten close enough to the structure. There had been no troops on the platform; on the metal staircase they'd ascended from it to a railing-less semicircular balcony high up the castle that opened into a large, wide tunnel with no doors or gates and a curving ceiling; or anywhere else on the outside of the lab Ed had been able to see. But the craft had unmistakably belonged to the Amestrian military, and the military boat was the only other vessel at Huskisson's laboratory; they'd rowed around the castle to see if there were any other craft floating in its presence, and they'd found none.

That told Edward two sets of things.

The occupants of the military boat included one or more Homunculi, or the Dwarf in the Flask hadn't sent anyone here to wait for their possible appearance and those here were just here to discuss or acquire the uranium bomb. Ed extremely highly doubted the latter possibility, so he was anticipating discovering the former was what was happening.

Ed and Al hadn't requested Julia to stay with the rowboat, though. They couldn't imprison her on the boat – she needed to be free in case she had to escape to save her life – so they'd had to bring her with them in order to keep an eye on her.

Standing before the open tunnel, Ed clapped his hands and ran his flesh hand over his automail arm, transmuting his sword out of it in a current of blue.

"Mustang was right about me," he spoke, "But recklessness isn't an issue here. We don't know the arrangement of this place, who's inside, or whether or not the people waiting for us have set up an ambush or trap. We have no choice but to enter and proceed with caution."

"I agree," Al said.

Ed looked at Julia to see if she was going to object, but she nodded, so Edward moved into a fast walk into the tunnel.

One direction was as good as another, so whenever they crept along the wall to an open door, looked into it, and saw a narrow hallway rather than a room, they didn't enter any of them. They continued down the wide tunnel, passing numerous moving gears of differing sizes and arrangements, until it turned into a ramp, and ascended the ramp. Then they proceeded down the tunnel atop it, creeping up to any open doors they saw and looking through them before passing them, until they reached the end of the tunnel and heard a voice coming through an arched doorway ahead from which a number of smells Edward usually didn't encounter away from factories, construction sites, or mines emerged.

"Was your meal to your liking?" an unfamiliar male voice asked.

Ed moved to one side of the tunnel, Al and Julia to the other, and walked as quietly as he could along the wall in the direction of the tunnel's end and the open arched door.

"It was sufficient," another unfamiliar male voice responded. "It was far from an admirable feast, but the soldiers of Amestris are used to unremarkable food. Even Jerso is, though he probably doesn't look it."

The first voice chuckled. "I'm assuming Jerso is the fat one with the dreadlocks. Indeed he doesn't. I'd taken him for one of your lazy soldiers who lounges in an armchair and orders his or her subordinates to file reports while doing little to no work himself or herself. Am I wrong, then?"

"Wholly." The second voice was polite, but there was an undercurrent of anger in it. "I don't tolerate slacking off in my command. My subordinates are required to perform their jobs to the best of their abilities, or I see them delivered dire repercussions."

"That's good to hear," the first voice said. "I'm glad you were satisfied with your meal. You'll forgive the smells in this chamber. Physicism is a demanding field. But to business.

"First, once again, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Major Kimblee." Ed started, but at the same time he experienced relief. If the former, perhaps reinstated, Crimson Alchemist had been released from prison and was here, perhaps his presence meant he had his Philosopher's Stone, and there were no Homunculi in this lab. If Kimblee had a Stone, he was extremely deadly, but an alchemist who could be separated from a Stone might be easier to defeat than a Homunculus. "I had hoped the government would send a State Alchemist to bring my bomb," so the first voice was Huskisson, "before High Command, but I never dreamed it would be the alchemist who specializes in demolitions. I had heard you were arrested at the end of the Ishvalan Civil War, though. How is it you still serve?"

"My arrest was due to a minor misunderstanding," Kimblee responded. "I was given a relatively mild sentence, one I recently completed. I was allowed to return to my previous position as the Crimson Alchemist upon my release and am once more a proud Dog of the Military. Though I'm sure you'd be happier if I wasn't."

As Ed reached the end of the tunnel and turned in the direction of the archway, Huskisson chuckled again. "True. But if we physicists gain the recognition we should have achieved long ago, we'll be forever grateful to the State Alchemist who paved our way to glory. So I'm not that unhappy Amestris didn't rid itself of one of its government alchemists." There was the sound of walking, and then, "The uranium bomb is right here."

There was the sound of levers being pulled and steam moving, then more walking. "We discovered the existence of uranium by using our progress with the steam engine to excavate differing ores we fashioned into revolutionary sources of fuel. I'm sure you're familiar with how the bomb works. Its constituent atoms are broken down, and this is what unleashes its energy. I haven't tested my calculations of the blast the bomb creates, for obvious reasons, but I'm sure of them. If Amestris is again faced with a rebellion like the one the Ishvalans launched, all you'll need to do is send a few soldiers willing to give their lives on missions to infiltrate the rebels' cities, and have them detonate these bombs. The cities will be leveled," Ed's stomach heaved violently, "The rebels will surrender, and you'll have pacified the rebellion at virtually no cost to Amestris' soldiers."

"The picture you paint is appealing," Kimblee spoke, "But you know why I'm here. I'm not suicidal enough to test the bomb, but I do need to examine it before bringing it to Central."

Al and Julia reached the doorway, then Ed did, and he looked inside to see a white-suited male with a white brimmed hat and black hair in a ponytail standing in a large chamber with assorted moving gears, facing a male with short brown hair, portions of a beard on his chin, and brown eyes wearing a dark blue and white mask over his upper face and a dark gray multi-part cloak over a brown suit with yellow lines along its edges, inner and outer. The brown-haired male was holding a mostly red and green bomb with a wheel handle; he had to be Roald Huskisson. Four soldiers in Central uniforms stood behind the white-suited male, who had to be Kimblee. One soldier was dark-skinned, overweight, and had black hair in dreadlocks – he must be Jerso; another had short blonde hair; another had light brown hair with glasses hooked over his ears; and the fourth had short black hair and a beard moving down his cheeks, inwards towards the areas above his mouth, and onto his chin.

Good. If these were all the soldiers present at this castle, none of them matched the description Greed had given Edward and Alphonse of the Homunculi, unless one of them was Envy. The military might indeed be trusting in Kimblee's Philosopher's Stone.

Huskisson snarled, but he said, "I'm aware." He extended the bomb to Kimblee. "You may have a look. But I want you to follow my instructions carefully when you do. If you don't you may set it off. It's not like the bombs you're familiar with."

Things had progressed too far. If this was a trap, Ed had no choice but to spring it. He walked into the doorway and into the chamber.

"I beg to differ," he interjected. "Kimblee won't be looking at anything. I'll be taking that bomb, and reducing it to scrap."

Kimblee turned and smiled. "It's about time," he commented. "I'm glad you were able to join us, Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed heard Al and Julia moving into the doorway, where they stopped.

Huskisson was looking at Ed with shock and anger. "Who is this?" he asked.

"A fugitive who used to be one of our best State Alchemists," Kimblee replied. "However, his goal was to make his mark in history by murdering one of the leaders of the country. He recently assassinated Cordelia Bradley and now he's on the run."

Huskisson gave Edward a look of hatred. "So you're here to prevent _me_ from making my mark on history, are you!?"

Edward laughed and crossed his arms. "Hardly," he retorted. "I'm here to prevent your invention from being used so an ambitious alchemist who thinks of physicists as laboratory samples, resources, and insects can put an _end_ to Amestris' history in order to learn how to perform transmutations that would leave the most accomplished physicist in the world in the dust." Huskisson frowned, and then he looked between the Crimson Alchemist and Edward distrustfully. "If you give Kimblee that bomb, you'll be helping an alchemist outclass you physicists so greatly you'll become like babies building things with blocks compared to him."

"I'm supposed to trust your claim?" Huskisson questioned.

"Can you really trust a State Alchemist, a government-sponsored practitioner of alchemy, is interested in a physicist's achievement for anything but an alchemist's ends?" Ed asked back.

The physicist frowned. "You have a point." He walked back from Kimblee. "There's been a change of plans. You and the Fullmetal Alchemist are staying here and I'm interrogating you two until I know who's telling the truth. I've come too far to risk my uranium bomb becoming an alchemist's toy for his or her advancement. If you're telling the truth, Kimblee, you may look at my bomb. If you are, Fullmetal Alchemist, you're not destroying it. I'm going to help you flee Amestris in exchange for you presenting my invention to Drachma, Aerugo, Xing, or Creta."

Ed laughed again. "You wish. _No one's_ getting that bomb, Amestris or anyone else."

Huskisson glared at him. "That's not your decision to make," he said. "I am the genius who will take recognition from you alchemists and elevate physicists to prominence. You will do as I say, or you will die."

He walked to an array of numerous levers on top of a machine standing near the circular contraption Edward assumed had stored the uranium bomb, holding the uranium bomb under one arm.

Ed had no idea what tricks a physicist had up his or her sleeve, and readied himself to react to anything.

"I wouldn't do that," Kimblee warned him. "Attack us and _you_ become a fugitive. I answer directly to Fϋhrer Bradley." He reached into his suit. "I can show you his seal. I'm not working for an alchemist who wants to use you as lab equipment. I'm serving the leader of the nation himself."

"Who wants to see the alchemist Kimblee is working for succeed!" Edward cried. "This alchemist has Bradley's support! You can't give Kimblee the bomb!"

"I've heard enough of this," Huskisson replied. "I'll take you all down and sort this out when you're my captives." He pulled a number of the levers.

Ed had thought he was ready to react to anything, but he was still caught off guard, as the Crimson Alchemist and his soldiers apparently were, when the four stone slabs on the floor to their sides, front, and back rose and then tilted up vertically on metal contraptions and crashed into their sides, fronts, and backs, holding them tightly in place and imprisoning their arms against their sides.

"Brother!" Al cried.

Edward cursed. He hadn't believed every slab of floor in this chamber was rigged.

Huskisson pulled more levers, and portions of the wall to Ed's left and right, relative to the direction he was facing, exploded outwards, and six pairs of long spinning drills on mechanical arms extended out of the openings on the left to their necks while six triads of long spinning drills on mechanical arms extended out of the openings on the right to the other sides of their necks.

Even after the stone slabs had trapped them, the next things that happened were among the last things Ed would have believed would take place.

The bodies of the four soldiers grew, ripping off their uniform shirts, and changed in color and features. The blonde-haired soldier's hair extended into a longer dark orange and his skin grew golden fur; Jerso's body became a yellowish tan and his head grew wider into one resembling a toad's; the brown-haired soldier's body turned white, his head elongated into a snout, two of his front teeth enlarged into curved fangs, and quills rose up on his back; and the body of the soldier with the other black hair grew brown fur, became larger and more muscular, his hair grew into a long mane, and his head changed shape into that of a gorilla's.

The soldiers were part-human Chimeras.

Jerso turned his head and spewed two glob of saliva over the sets of drills at his neck, revealing he now had the face and mouth of a toad, and the drills ground to a halt. The part-gorilla Chimera strained against the slabs of stone holding him in place, trying to push them away, but they didn't move far.

Huskisson's eyes widened. "What is this!?"

"One of the most resourceful fields of alchemy," Kimblee replied, "My knowledgeable physicist. Chimera alchemy. It enables alchemists to fuse one or more animals together, including humans, and alter their features and biology so they can do things the animals in their natural forms can't." As Kimblee talked, Jerso turned his head and spewed more saliva at the drills to the sides of Kimblee, then the other soldiers, clogging them as well. "Zampano, for example, can fire his large boar's quills as lethal projectile weapons, although it appears he's in no position to strike a target that would give us an advantage if he hit it."

The physicist's eyes showed interest. "Is that so? Then there's much I could learn that would benefit physicists by dissecting their bodies." Edward bared his teeth. He hadn't hoped for anything better after learning Huskisson was willing to sell the military a bomb that could wreck cities in a single blast, but having it confirmed Huskisson was just as unscrupulous as Tucker and the Dwarf in the Flask infuriated him. "Whether you're a liar or not, I must thank you for this gift. I'll obtain their corpses now."

"Dream on, quack!" Jerso shouted, and spewed globs of saliva at Huskisson's hands and feet, then at the controls for the slabs of stone and drills. But Huskisson threw his hands forward and the top front of his cloak ripped off, his uranium bomb falling to the floor and accordion-like constructs of metal bars with active drills at the end extending from his upper arms before his hands and feet and the controls and blocking the saliva. Huskisson clenched his hands into fists, and the surfaces of the bars covered with saliva fell off, revealing them to be thin and sturdy with additional surfaces below them, almost certainly the second layer in a set of many. Jerso spewed a glob of saliva at Huskisson's face, but he crouched behind the controls and evaded it, extended one accordion construct over it as a shield, and pulled another lever.

Part of the wall behind Jerso detonated out and a single, shorter whirling drill extended on a thinner, lighter mechanical arm at a much faster speed than the other arms had moved to the back of his neck, where he couldn't aim saliva at it. Al had broken into a run at the drill arm as it extended, but it reached Jerso's neck a second before Alphonse could reach it. Huskisson pulled more levers and four more areas of the back wall erupted, smaller drills extending to the backs of the necks of the other Chimeras and Kimblee.

"Checkmate," Huskisson spoke.

"For you," Kimblee responded, and then red coursed into the slab of stone behind him and it elongated upwards, blocking the drill.

Huskisson's eyes went wide as the stone elongated, but he hadn't been caught off guard. As the slab extended and then more red currents ran over the stone below Kimblee and the slabs in front of him and to his sides cracked apart, he was flinging out his hands, and the drills at the ends of the accordion-contraptions soared at Kimblee. One drill struck Kimblee in the mouth and his head snapped back, a familiar partially translucent red marble sailing into the air along with blood and teeth.

Julia gasped.

Swearing, Kimblee reached out with his right hand to seize the Stone, but Huskisson's other drill had stopped in front of the Crimson Alchemist, and now it plunged into Kimblee's right wrist as he grabbed the Stone and pinned it to the stone behind him, causing the State Alchemist to release the Stone. It fell into one of his pockets, but Huskisson had clearly realized what Edward already knew from how Kimblee had been holding the Stone in his mouth; the State Alchemist couldn't transmute with the Stone if it wasn't in physical contact with his body.

The physicist sneered, and then the drill that had struck the Crimson Alchemist in the mouth retracted and stabbed into his left wrist, pinning it to the stone behind him.

"You were saying?" Huskisson inquired. "I don't have a clue what in the cosmos the thing is you used to defy the laws that govern the world and transmute without a circle, but whatever it is, no alchemist's catalyst is a match for a physicist's engineering. You _are_ the one in checkmate."

Ed wondered how Cornello had been able to transmute when he'd been wearing his Stone on a ring, but this wasn't the time to think about that.

Then Alphonse finished drawing his transmutation circle on the drill arm behind Jerso and pressed one hand to it, and blue light shone, altering the drill into a stationary blunt fist. Right away, Jerso turned his head to the controls that operated the drills in the walls and could raise the stone slabs on the floor and spewed a saliva glob at it. Huskisson had anticipated this as soon as Al had transmuted, though, and his right arm's accordion-construct detached from the drill in Kimblee's wrist, causing that drill to cease to whirl and revealing a smaller drill inside it that started to spin, shot out, and blocked the glob.

But Jerso had anticipated as well. Another saliva glob sailed at Huskisson's right hand as his accordion-contraption moved, and when Huskisson reflexively sent out his left device to block it, two more saliva globs splashed over his feet. Huskisson swore and attempted to dart behind the control machine again, but the saliva was apparently sticky, and he tripped and crashed to the floor. He threw his arms forward at Jerso and the smaller drills at the ends of the accordion-contraptions sailed at him, but then Al was running between the constructs and grabbing them, halting them in mid-movement.

Al pulled on them, and Huskisson slid forward on the floor, but then the saliva held him in place and Alphonse ripped them off the physicist's arms. He threw them to the side.

"Not when you don't know how to fight," Alphonse said. "You control this chamber, but you yourself have little skill in combat. It doesn't matter whether alchemy or physicism is the more effective science. If you can't fight decently, you shouldn't pick a battle with soldiers."

Huskisson ground his teeth and snarled.

Al walked in the direction of the machine the physicist had used to trap Ed, the Crimson Alchemist, and the Chimeras, but Huskisson rolled over and grabbed the uranium bomb with one hand on the wheel handle.

"Stay back!" he shouted. "Or I'll set this off!"

Alphonse froze.

Huskisson sat up and turned so Al and Kimblee were in his vision. "Don't test me. I'd rather die than lose my chance to sell my uranium bomb to a government. I'm assuming you're Alphonse Elric, boy. Relieve Kimblee of the catalyst he used to transmute without a circle and any transmutation circles on him, then transmute this saliva off of me. Then, Kimblee, if you don't tell me the truth and convince me it _is_ the truth, I'm going to pull the drills out of your wrists and prevent you from giving yourself first aid so you'll bleed to death."

Kimblee grimaced. "I have documents signed with the Fϋhrer's seal on me from a packet he had delivered to me to inform me of what my superiors' goals are, in case I need to review my superiors' objectives, and while I'm not carrying all of what he delivered me, the ones I have on me will verify what I'm about to tell you. Alphonse Elric can show them to you once I've revealed the truth."

"Talk, then," Huskisson ordered.

The Crimson Alchemist glared at the physicist, but he spoke, "The Fullmetal Alchemist is the one who is being honest." One of the Chimeras whose name Ed didn't know inhaled sharply, and Zampano gasped. "He didn't kill Cordelia Bradley. The servants of an alchemist unaffiliated with him did, and we placed the blame on Edward Elric yesterday to prevent him from hindering us in achieving our goal. Which we, indeed, want your uranium bomb, should it be the legitimate article, as a potential asset in achieving. We're digging a transmutation circle through all of Amestris and shedding blood at its points to power it, so we can transmute a much larger version of the catalyst I used against you from the people of Amestris and the alchemist I serve can use it to trap all the knowledge within reality inside himself, making him a perfect being."

Edward couldn't imagine the looks on the Chimeras' faces as they gazed at Kimblee, but relief filled him. Four other soldiers, at least, had probably been saved from unknowingly helping their government slaughter the people they were supposed to be shielding.

Huskisson's expression was filled with absolute hatred. "So you would _dare_ ," he hissed, "Use the achievement that should elevate physicists to prominence to enable an alchemist to become the most successful and learned scientist history has yet known. I don't have any understanding of how an alchemist could possibly learn perfect knowledge of the secrets of the universe and beyond, or why you'd need an alchemist catalyst to imprison those secrets within you, as opposed to just unlocking them, but after seeing your Chimeras and seeing you break the laws of science and transmute without a circle, I don't doubt both are possible. There is truly no limit to how far your masters and the government of Amestris will go to degrade us physicists. They'll learn what my bomb is capable of, all right. They'll learn when, after I've sold my bomb to another government, one of my employees detonates this one in Central!"

Ed glared at the physicist.

"Now transmute this saliva off me!" Huskisson ordered Alphonse.

Alphonse, his movements making it clear how much he didn't want to do this, walked in Huskisson's direction.

"I'm going to take Kimblee's Philosopher's Stone," Julia spoke up, and Al gasped and Edward swore. Huskisson's eyes widened, and then he sneered. "I'm not going to attack you, or prevent Al from freeing you, or say or do anything that will threaten you. There's no reason for you to set your bomb off if I move."

"The 'Philosopher's Stone,' eh?" Huskisson questioned. "The mythological alchemic amplifier, thought to exist only in legend. I should have known. I don't want to accept it, but I know, if physicism can discover an element no one was aware at all is present in the universe, alchemists, with all their undeserved resources at their disposal, can prove an element they've hypothesized exists for centuries is real and transmute it. So the Philosopher's Stone is created from humans. That makes sense. I know enough about alchemy to know understanding is an essential part of practicing it, and nothing but the human intellect can understand the laws of the dimensions of reality well enough to know how to bend them to one's will." Edward suppressed the urge to snort. Physicism was a different field of science than alchemy, but all science followed natural laws, rather than shaping them. Huskisson believed he was above alchemists, but he was no better than any foolish arrogant alchemist out there. "We physicists should have realized this, unlocked the Philosopher's Stone long before you alchemists did, and put you in your place by using physicism to create the most sought after treasure of alchemy when you couldn't.

"Go ahead and take your useless Stone. But don't delude yourself into thinking it will make you a more successful alchemist. Now that I know it _is_ possible to uncover total knowledge of the secrets of the dimensions of existence, it's just a matter of time before physicism discovers how to do it, and in a way more efficient than utilizing untold millions to lock the knowledge within yourself. We'll learn how to unearth these secrets in a more practical fashion, and then you alchemists will become fully obsolete!"

Al took a step in Kimblee's direction, but as Ed knew Julia had been counting on, Huskisson objected to that. "Don't you dare!" the physicist cried. "Get over here, or I'll incinerate you!"

Alphonse looked at Julia with a wordless plea, and then turned and walked over to Huskisson. He knelt and began to draw a transmutation circle around one of Huskisson's feet with his piece of chalk.

Edward experienced little discomfort. Now that Ed had moved forward, he was nowhere near as uncomfortable with the concept of talking to or allying with Mustang or other soldiers who had or might have fought at Ishval.

Julia walked in Kimblee's direction, and Ed cried, "Jerso! Please, stop her! You know from Kimblee's revelations you can trust me, so you know I'm not lying when I'm telling you she's going to use the human souls in Kimblee's Philosopher's Stone as weapons to free and defend her people, the Milosians, from Amestrian and Cretan oppression! I sympathize with the Milosians' plight, but those souls are still alive! If she transmutes with them, she'll be spending their lives to force them to murder against their will, and making them enslaved killers, unlike you soldiers who choose to risk or give your lives or pull the trigger!"

Jerso turned his head in Julia's direction, and Julia stopped walking and faced him. "Could you please stay out of this?" she asked the Chimera politely. "There are things people are willing to give their lives for and shed blood to obtain, and a future free of impoverishment and terror of Creta and Amestris is one of them. My people have to risk their lives to dig through piles of garbage for food every day, we're treated like slaves, we're shot as if we're no more than animals if we attempt to escape our destitute lives, we wake up each morning not knowing if we'll live to see the night… That's something the souls in the Stone would be willing to sacrifice themselves and kill to stop. And I have to save my people, and give them a future. Could you please let me take the Stone?"

Jerso was quiet for several seconds, and then spoke, "I see your point."

"Jerso–"

"Let me speak!" Jerso cut Edward off. "If you want my help don't interfere!"

Ed said nothing further, and Jerso lowered his voice, talking to Julia again. "I'm sure the souls in the Stone would want to fight to protect the oppressed. Everyone wants to fight to protect things that are important. So I'll ask you this. Do you see the souls in the Stone as the power you need to protect your people?"

"Of course," Julia answered. "Why?"

"In that case," Jerso replied, "Don't take another step in Mister Kimblee's direction. Otherwise I'll pin your feet to the floor as I did Huskisson's."

Julia's eyes widened in dismay. "Why?"

"Because no one should be forced to sacrifice himself or herself or kill against his or her will so another can gain power," Jerso responded, "No matter what that other wishes to use that power for."

Julia's face became expressionless. After several seconds she glared at Ed angrily, but she didn't make another step in Kimblee's direction, and Edward sighed in relief.

Blue light had reconstructed the saliva around Huskisson's right leg as water, and now Al looked at Jerso in wordless thanks before he turned and put his hands on the floor before a circle around Huskisson's left leg. It crackled with blue, and the saliva around that foot became water too.

Huskisson didn't thank Al. He pushed himself to his feet, walked up to Kimblee, and moved his hand around in the pockets of his suit, then removed it with a folded up sheaf of papers in his hands. He unfolded them and looked through them.

"You were telling the truth," he said, and the gorilla Chimera growled at Kimblee. Huskisson glared at Kimblee hatefully, and then turned to Edward. "This is your last chance. Will you help me, or would you rather I kill you along with Kimblee and his soldiers?"

"Former soldiers," Zampano interjected. "We're now deserters. Jerso and I have families, and though they were told we were dead when we were transmuted into Chimeras and I'm sure my son would rather not see me again – I used to be a heavy drinker – we still love them and want them to be safe and happy. Darius and Heinkel don't have any living immediate relatives, but they swore an oath to defend the people of Amestris. If the government we've served is a threat to our families and those people, it's our duty as soldiers to mutiny against them. And the four of us have nothing else to do with our lives when we can't obey High Command."

"Whatever," Huskisson responded. He looked at Ed. "What is your answer?"

"What do you think?" Edward responded. "I'm not defying the leaders of my country for the sake of preventing the massacre of innumerable people through alchemy just to turn around and help a jealous scientist enable the leaders of another country to accomplish that through physicism."

"Then good riddance," Huskisson replied. Holding his bomb to his chest and moving his eyes between Al, Jerso, and Julia, he backed towards an open arched doorway in the back wall and then ran through it.

Al sprinted to the controls Huskisson had used to trap Ed, Kimblee, and the Chimera soldiers and pulled the levers he'd used to raise the slabs. They retracted back into the floor, and Edward looked at the Chimeras. "We're going after Huskisson," he spoke. He wanted to stay here and talk to Kimblee, and learn more about how a human could be willing to participate in the atrocities Tucker and the Homunculi had enacted and were willing to enact, but there was no time for that now. "What do you want to do? Do you want to work with us or fight the Fϋhrer your own way?"

The gorilla Chimera looked at the other three, and they nodded. "We'll have a better chance at saving Amestris battling with a former State Alchemist than by ourselves," the gorilla Chimera responded. "And we don't know what other former State Alchemists, if any, are involved in your treason, so rebelling will be easier for us for now if we stay with you. We'll fight at your side until we learn more about who's involved in your revolution."

Ed didn't let himself feel relieved at the willingness of the Chimeras to accompany them for now. There was no guarantee he and Alphonse wouldn't have to battle alone with Julia after they heard what he had to say now.

"We do have a condition to letting you accompany us," Edward spoke. "Al and I are operating by ourselves, save for Julia, because we're unwilling to kill anyone to save the country." Varying expressions of disbelief appeared on the Chimeras' faces. "I know. It's hopelessly idealistic, and incredibly irresolute. But nothing is worse than death, and nothing is more priceless than life, so it's wrong to take life from someone no matter _what_ he or she does or tries to do. And killing to stop others from killing won't solve anything. If you want to battle at our side, don't try to kill anyone."

Zampano looked at Kimblee, who was gazing at Ed with an irritated expression on his face, and then the four Chimeras looked at each other. Then Jerso nodded.

"Like Darius said," the toad Chimera spoke, "We're better off working with you. We can agree to that for now."

Now Ed let himself feel relief, and he forced himself to smile. "Then welcome aboard. And I'm sorry I don't have any idea how to give you back human bodies."

"Don't worry about it," the lion Chimera, who must be Heinkel, said. "Darius and I don't mind having these bodies," Al, now near Julia, looked at Heinkel and Darius at that, "And while Jerso and Zampano do, they've resigned themselves to them. There won't be any hard feelings."

"Good to know," Edward responded. He looked at Julia, telling her with the look on his face she was coming with them after Huskisson. Julia's face betrayed nothing of what she was feeling as she nodded, but Al put a hand on her shoulder.

The Chimeras were silent, and Ed started as he became aware they were waiting for him to say what their course of action was going to be. Terror consumed him. He was a liability, not a leader. If he took charge he'd almost certainly guide the people who trusted him to their deaths.

Darius must have seen something in Edward's face, for he spoke up.

"I think we should leave Mister Kimblee here," he said, the look on his face making it clear he wasn't attempting to take a leadership position himself, just offering his input because Ed didn't want to lead. Edward gave him a wordless look of gratitude. "I don't believe he's a threat to anyone as he is. I recommend we just chase after Huskisson. Does anyone disagree?"

No one did, and Heinkel gestured in the direction of the doorway Huskisson had fled through. The seven of them ran after him.

.

They reached the end of a short stone hallway that had turned a single corner and emerged into a large circular chamber with walkways around the walls at various levels, a ceiling in the shadows high above them, and a floor out of sight in the darkness far below. A single walkway extended out over the emptiness, and a large ball with numerous great, thick drills on it attached to a vertical arm of interlocking bars and other shapes that extended up to a protrusion closer to the ceiling was rocketing along it at them, Huskisson seated in a control car behind the arm it was extending on and above it.

Ed and the Chimeras threw themselves to the side of the compound drill, Al wrapping his arms around Julia and throwing them to the opposite side, and from the sounds of metal on metal Ed heard he knew Al had twisted his body to take the impact of the landing. Moving with surprising speed for someone so fat, Jerso somersaulted through the air, landed upside down on his hands facing back at the ball drill, and spewed a spread of saliva at it, bringing the drills facing them grinding to a halt.

Huskisson laughed. "You fell into my trap!"

He pulled a lever, and the coverings of the ball drill facing them, and Al and Julia, exploded in their directions, sending a surface with stationary but still lethally sharp drills in their direction.

Ones that were large enough for Darius to run forward and grab behind the points, halting the covering. Edward heard whirling behind it and knew an interior layer of drills was swinging at them, but he clapped his hands and pressed them to the covering Darius was holding, and it extended to the side to merge with the wall and backwards to clamp down over the interior layer, slowing down the movement of the ball. The drills on the lower layer tore through the covering, but Jerso halted them with more saliva globs.

Heinkel used the opportunity Edward had given him to leap onto the arm behind the ball and race on all fours at the control car, and Huskisson swung it to the side to try to throw Heinkel off, but Zampano leapt into the air and fired a number of long white, fatally sharp quills from his back at Huskisson. The physicist ducked behind the controls, and then Heinkel reached the car and jumped into it.

But by this point Huskisson was standing and had one hand on the wheel handle of the uranium bomb again.

"Give up!" he shouted, thrusting the bomb into Heinkel's face. "You can't take this from me before I set it off!" He climbed up out of the car onto the arm and moved along it. "If I can't establish us physicists at the helm of a country's progress, I'll content myself with ridding this planet of a few of the alchemists infesting it!"

He reached the compound ball drill and jumped onto the walkway before Edward and the other three Chimeras, holding his bomb to his chest. He moved in their direction and Ed moved out of his way to let him through, as did the Chimeras. He wished he could cut the uranium bomb apart with his automail blade, but he knew that was too risky. That might cause the bomb to erupt.

Huskisson turned to face them and moved backward along the walkway until he reached a lever, and then pulled it. A section of the wall rose up, revealing a room beyond with a large pile of human corpses inside.

Ed grimaced. "Miners who lost their lives excavating the uranium?" he asked.

"Indeed," Huskisson responded. "Uranium turned out to be poisonous."

"Then you've made even less of a scientific breakthrough than we thought!" Al cried, helping Julia over the ball drill's arm. "You haven't just failed to craft something that has no use other than as a weapon, even its creation cost lives! You're no different than an alchemist seeking to revolutionize alchemy by transmuting the Philosopher's Stone at all! You have to see that!"

"Ignorant fool," Huskisson replied. "There's no such thing as progress without sacrifice. You alchemists know that well; that's an essential part of your precious Law of Equivalent Exchange. What matters isn't how progress is accomplished, but _what_ it accomplishes. And in that, physicism has measurelessly more to offer than alchemy. Unlike the lives you alchemists are willing to sacrifice to create your vaunted Philosopher's Stones, the lives lost to excavate uranium weren't lost in vain. I'm nothing like you uneducated savages.

"That's true even though I took the time to learn an amount of alchemy." Edward's eyes went wide. "In a nation such as this, I had no other option but to study alchemy in the event I'd need to practice something besides physicism to gain enough money to eat and drink. It was easy for a genius as brilliant as I am to understand your primitive alchemy."

He let go of the uranium bomb with his left hand, still holding its handle with his right, walked into the room with the corpses, and reached into a pocket of his cloak and pulled out a piece of paper with a transmutation circle that looked a little familiar on it, but that Edward couldn't identify right away.

"Now what are you going to attempt?" Ed questioned.

Huskisson gestured at the corpses with the hand holding the uranium bomb, and Ed's eyes widened as he became aware what was familiar about the transmutation circle and realized part or all of what Huskisson had in mind. A mixture of countless emotions consumed Ed after the time he'd thought he'd murdered Al and what Edward had done to Alphonse, along with terror for Huskisson. If the physicist was taken by his Portal he wouldn't die, but no one should suffer a punishment afflicted upon him or her by the Truth.

"Don't!" Ed cried, not keeping his terror out of his voice after the time he'd thought Al was dead. "Human transmutation is forbidden among alchemists, and for valid reason! The dead can't be brought back, trying defies the flow of matter in the planes of reality, and the circulation of nature demands a heavy toll from the alchemist who attempts it for doing that!"

"Tolls the laws of nature exact from uneducated alchemists are irrelevant to me," Huskisson rejoined. "I am an unparalleled genius physicist. I will restore these miners to life, fused with machinery, and order them to defeat you and the representatives of biology's promise with you."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to try," another voice cut in.

Edward spun in surprise to see the Crimson Alchemist standing before the outer covering of the ball drill, one hand with a bleeding wrist resting against the wall to his right, the other holding his Philosopher's Stone.

"How–" Zampano began.

"I removed one drill with my teeth once no one was watching me," Kimblee replied before Zampano finished the question. "Then the other with that freed hand. I know I should have given myself first aid, but I've been ordered to neutralize the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother, and work comes before health. And it would appear I did the right thing. Huskisson needs me to prevent him from betraying his beliefs."

The physicist laughed derisively. "You've lost whatever mind you have!" he mocked Kimblee. "I'm about to continue fighting for what I believe in!"

Kimblee glared at him. "No, you're not," he argued. "You're a physicist who claims to be devoted to seeing physicism recognized as the finest field of science and physicists recognized as the rightful architects of civilization, but faced with the likelihood of losing your chance at fame, you're willing to give yourself to the alchemy you hate in order to acquire glory. You're a traitor to everything you stand for, and a fraud of the worst sort, and I _hate_ people as hypocritical as you. I'm not going to take your uranium bomb as a potential asset. I'm just going to cleanse the people who believe in physicism of you."

"Don't presume to know me, you simpleton!" Huskisson shouted furiously. "And _don't_ call me a fraud! You would use my uranium bomb to elevate an alchemist to the apex of learning, and now you talk as if you have a concept of my brilliant mind and name me fraud!? You and your beloved Philosopher's Stone will be the first to go!"

He turned. Ed broke into a desperate run towards him, heart pounding, but he knew it was too late.

Huskisson pressed the piece of paper to the pile of corpses, and purple energies coursed through the air, causing Edward's eyes to widen. But there was no time to think about what form of alchemy Huskisson was using, for at the same time red coursed over the walls and ceiling and walkways of the chamber they were in, the surfaces of the chamber Huskisson was in, and no doubt the surfaces of all the ones in the area, if not the entire castle itself, and the chamber and its surroundings became a single enormous fragmentation bomb that erupted inward and downward in large pieces. Edward, turning his head around, saw Al pulling Julia close to him and turning his body above her, Heinkel falling through the air and angling his fall, almost certainly so he could grab onto one or more descending pieces near him, and Jerso spewing a thick stream of saliva at one of the pieces of wall and Darius seizing his feet. Then Zampano wrapped his legs around Darius' and grabbed Edward's hands.

A familiar large eye with a pupil comprised of concentric circles of differing shades of silver opened on the piece of paper as a wordlessly yelling Huskisson and the corpses fell through the air and oily black arms rose out of the circle, and another mixture of emotions consumed Edward at the sight of the eye and arms, not just because of what was about to happen to Huskisson, but because Edward now knew what they truly were. But as the eye and arms appeared the falling ruins of the room tore the paper to shreds and there was a flash of purple. Purple currents ran over Huskisson as his transmutation rebounded and the oily arms thrashed wildly, grabbing not only Huskisson but, to Ed's shock, the uranium bomb as well. The bomb and Huskisson came apart into pieces that vanished, and then something struck Ed in the side of the head and all he knew was darkness.

.

"He's the most brilliant man on the face of the Earth."-Janine "Fox" Renard

GARGOYLES:

HER BROTHER'S KEEPER


	20. The Gifts of Governments, the Gift of A

.

 **CHAPTER 20:**

 **THE GIFTS OF GOVERNMENTS, THE GIFT OF A BURGLAR**

.

The first thing Edward was aware of was the sloshing of water.

For a number of seconds, he didn't know why he was hearing sloshing waves, and then what had happened returned to him. His eyes flew open, sending pain shooting through him from the left side of his head and causing light to blind him, but he ignored the pain and closed his eyes, pushing aside his feelings at his awareness someone else had become a victim of the Truth and shifting his hands and arms to sit up. He had no idea if they were or weren't still in danger, or what condition the others were in.

A hand caught his left hand. "I recommend against moving too fast," Julia's voice came from behind the blackness.

Julia was holding his hand. Edward suppressed the urge to pull his hand back swiftly.

"We tricked Kimblee into thinking we were dead and he left us on his boat," Julia went on, "Huskisson didn't return from the Portal," Edward couldn't prevent himself from shuddering violently, and more anguish shot through his head, "And everyone else is mostly okay now." Ed let his body relax as best as it could with the pain moving through him. "I've closed your head wound with medical alchemy, but the injury was too extensive for me to fully treat it with my limited skill. If you move too fast it may reopen."

"I take your warning," Ed spoke. "Could you please let go of my hand?"

Julia released it, and Edward kept his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to lessen. The surface beneath him wasn't moving and felt like Sun-warmed mental, so they must be on the ruins of a damaged part of Huskisson's laboratory now open to the sky, assuming most of the entire castle above the surface of the lake hadn't been ruined.

When the pain had lessened enough, he waited a number of seconds longer, then turned his head to the side and carefully opened his right eye slightly.

Alphonse was kneeling next to him, and beyond him rubble spread before Edward's vision, extending out of the surface of the lake to various heights, until it reached where the edge of the castle lab had been. The sole portion of the structure still mostly undamaged was a portion of wall with a ladder in its surface around transmutation markings Ed assumed reached up to the walkway Kimblee had been standing on, but he didn't turn his head up to look.

Edward carefully opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but Al talked before he could.

"Heinkel climbed onto a falling piece of the laboratory," he said, "Leapt from piece to piece, and caught Julia and I. Jerso used his saliva stream to pull all of you to the part of the wall it was attached to. Then the Chimeras jumped from piece to piece, carrying us, until we reached the bottom of the chamber. I had a transmutation circle drawn by that point and extended up fists to catch the rubble falling on us. We moved to hide in ambush for when Kimblee came down to look for us, but we discovered the corpses of other miners had been piled in rooms different than the one Huskisson opened, so I transmuted their clothes to look like ours and facsimiles of your automail arm and parts of my armor body out of metal sections of the ruins, and then tore parts of the clothes off and arranged those parts, the fake arm, and the fake armor body portions on rubble near the water so it would look like we'd fallen into the water and your arm, those parts of my armor body, and the clothes portions had been detached. Then I transmuted rubble over us with a tiny opening to the air that started below the waterline and extended millimeters above the water's surface, and we hid there for a long time. When we emerged, the military boat was gone; we'd fooled Kimblee into believing we might truly be dead. The military may now think there's a good chance we're dead and we can use that to our advantage.

"Afterwards, Julia tended our wounds with Milosian medical alchemy and I told the Chimeras the whole story about the Homunculi's goals and how our treason and our allies' has been progressing."

"We're still with you," Zampano told Ed as he walked into Edward's field of vision, in human form again without a uniform shirt. "We'd rather work with people who won't have any problems with us killing, but you and Al are the only rebels who aren't inhibited by hostages or are going to be working with people hindered by hostages. You and the other rebels will have a better chance of saving Amestris if you two have larger numbers on your side."

"Good to hear," Edward said back, wincing as more pain moved through his head.

"But I'd like to know," Heinkel's voice sounded from his other side. "Why did you apply for a State Alchemist certification when you weren't prepared to kill? When you sought to enlist, you knew that meant you might be ordered to kill one day, right? So why did you apply for a State Alchemist's license?"

Ed shut his eye exhaustedly at the memory of how naïve he'd been then. He'd known his beliefs about killing were unique when he'd applied, and they made him irresolute, but he'd still been a naïve idiot. He'd thought he was capable; and could become stronger and more capable; and take care of Al; and the road they were taking, though it might lead somewhere, still offered hope; and alchemy and alchemists were a wonder and wonder workers that saved the tormented and who were knights errant who traveled Amestris lifting up the downtrodden.

What a fool he'd been. He was capable of nothing, lest of all taking care of Al, the path they'd taken had offered nothing but the likelihood they'd wreck or murder others, and alchemy and alchemists were as corrosive as everything else in reality. And Edward hadn't even _thought_ about improving himself and becoming stronger since the night McDougal had shown them the shape of Amestris; in a reality like this, where they were so insignificant compared to what was going on, the concept of bettering himself had been so much of a joke it hadn't even crossed Ed's mind, and it had just become more of a joke as Edward had learned how hopeless he genuinely was.

"I was prepared not to kill when I applied," Ed spoke back. "I knew it was idealistic. Death is a natural part of the flow of the One and the All that governs the circulation of matter. It's also an essential part." Once more he asked if he'd been wrong to accept the transmutation of numberless millions into a Stone as part of reality. "One of the reasons Ones exist within the All is all matter contributes to how the universe works. Human corpses decay and their bodies nourish plants, which in turn nourish herbivores, which in turn nourish carnivores and omnivores, which in turn decay and nourish plants, continuing the cycle. Life is deconstructed in order to be reconstructed, and so is non-living matter when it's transmuted. Death and life are inextricably intertwined; without death, there can't be a cycle of life. And I knew being prepared not to kill meant I lacked resolve; I wasn't willing to do what it took.

"But I was still prepared not to kill. I thought I could cut my own path, I couldn't see killing for any reason as anything but murder, I believed the laws of alchemy don't support actively causing the death essential to it, and I believed killing others because they've done something wrong makes us no better than they are. I knew I might be ordered to kill, but I wasn't unprepared for that; I didn't know how I'd respond if I was ordered to fulfill my duty as a human weapon, but I was prepared from the beginning to disobey.

"I failed to cut open the path I wanted to slice for myself into a trail carved for others, but I still believe any killing is murder, the laws of alchemy don't support actively causing death, and killing to stop murdering makes us no better than those we oppose. Furthermore, I've learned how horrible death is and how priceless life is. There's no way I'll kill another myself now, or let those around me kill if I can keep it from happening, even though I couldn't avert death during the forthcoming revolt."

 _Why won't you stop lying?_

Ed didn't care what the voice had to say this time. He knew without hearing it it was wrong.

"It doesn't matter how irresolute it makes me," he finished.

"A soldier who tried to enlist prepared _not_ to kill," Heinkel remarked, disbelief and a type of wonder in his voice. "That's a new one. As crazy as the course you've chosen sounds, though, I won't argue it." Ed was aware his eyes would have widened if they'd been open. "I'm curious to witness where that path will take you. I've met many soldiers who joined the military unprepared to kill and who felt horrible once they did, but never one prepared to actively not take a life. And I admire the strength of your conviction; you tried for months to launch a coup where no one would die, failed, and yet you still believe in avoiding killing yourself."

Edward suppressed the urge to shift. There was nothing about him to admire, and there never had been. "Like I said, I knew death is one of the things reality revolves around when I became prepared not to kill. There's no reason failing to avert death during the upcoming revolution would break my beliefs. And my surrogate sister," why did it feel wrong to call her that? "and my brother recently taught me how genuinely horrific death is and how truly precious life is. After that, I can't doubt my chosen road. There's nothing strong about my conviction."

"It's still admirable," Heinkel replied.

"We don't need to discuss this any further," Julia put in, and Ed suppressed the urge to clench his teeth. He didn't need Julia's support. "You have your answer. Could you please drop the topic? Ed and Al have been through a lot since the Freezer told them of the government's objective."

"Fine," Heinkel responded. "I'm sorry if I caused you pain, Edward."

"It's okay," Ed reassured him. "With how I feel, pain from what you've said doesn't make a difference."

There was no sound but the sloshing of waves for a number of seconds. Not knowing if anyone else was going to talk, Ed questioned, "What happened to the uranium bomb?"

Why had the Truth taken it? Edward wouldn't have believed a rebounding transmutation could have affected something like the Truth in a way that would cause it to claim something that wasn't living as part of the toll it was extracting, intentionally or unintentionally. Even after what Greed had revealed Ed had been sure there were things they didn't know about the Truth, but he'd been certain because the Truth was the entity that ensured living beings didn't disturb the flow of the One and the All, it didn't take anything that wasn't alive. What could it be he didn't know about the Truth that had caused it or led it to pull the uranium bomb into the Portal?

"It didn't return from the Portal too," Alphonse responded, sounding confused, and Ed knew his eyes would have gone wide if they were open. The Truth had _kept_ it? _Why?_ What _was_ it he was unaware of about the nature of the Truth? Or was there something unique about the element of uranium that allowed it to serve as a toll?

Again nothing but the sloshing of waves broke the silence, and after a longer period of quiet Darius' voice spoke. "So, are we going to Kelyair or Fort Briggs?"

Ed carefully opened his right eye slightly, waited a number of seconds, and then opened it fully. Then he opened his left eye slightly, sending more agony through his head, but this pain wasn't as bad as the previous anguish had been. He waited a number of seconds, opened his left eye fully, and cautiously pushed himself into a sitting position, clenching his teeth when the agony worsened. It was time to get moving again.

"Kelyair," he replied. Not he, Alphonse, or Julia had developed a plan for convincing the residents of Kelyair not to depart it for New Liore before reaching the lake, but even though journeying to Kelyair from here wouldn't give them as much additional time to think of a plan as going to Fort Briggs first would, it was better if they visited Kelyair next. They knew the Homunculi's plot for New Liore, and knew they had a better chance of thwarting it the sooner they visited the city. "Our chances of preventing the Homunculi from carving the New Liore crest will decrease the longer we don't interfere with that operation.

"I don't know how we're going to dissuade the people there from not relocating any more, though."

"We should wait until we've reached the city," Jerso recommended, "And we know more about how things stand there. Even if we do come up with something beforehand, we might need to revise it once we're aware of more of the specifics of what's going on in Kelyair."

"Good point," Ed complimented the Chimera.

He pushed himself up, ignoring the physical anguish doing so caused.

"Are you sure you should be getting up yet?" Al questioned worriedly.

Ed didn't know how bad his head injury was, and from what Julia had said he knew better than to feel it, but as no one had looked that worried when he'd risen partially, he knew it couldn't be anything crippling. "We don't have time to concern ourselves with that," he spoke back, and got to his feet. He glanced at Darius so the Chimeras would know Ed wasn't taking a leadership position, just contributing to getting them on their way, and then continued. "I'll transmute us a boat large enough for all of us, and then enlarge the seating area of our car, provided Kimblee didn't come ashore near it, find it, and destroy it. Then we need to leave."

.

Ashleigh followed Fϋhrer Bradley through the open double metal doors.

The chamber beyond was large and tall; with multiple pillars, gears and pipes in the walls; two staircases with railings along the opposite wall leading down from closed single metal doors to meet in the middle at a shorter, wider staircase extending forwards into the room; numerous pipes of differing sizes extending and winding across the floor; and a dais in the center with a chair in the middle facing away from the doors he'd entered through. The pipes extending across the floor that hadn't merged with each other were all connected to the chair or ran onto it, and a table stood to the right and front of the chair, relative to the direction Ashleigh was facing, beneath a group of pipes that extended through the air, with a torch in the shape of a skull, the source of the lighting in the room, and assorted alchemical equipment on it, as well as papers and books.

Ashleigh didn't know if the Homunculus doubtlessly sitting on the chair that was unquestionably a throne out of sight could see the human alchemist with the Homunculus' greater body, but Ashleigh wasn't going to take any chances. He kept his eyes on the books and papers while pretending his best he wasn't looking at them and assumed an expression with his eyes he kept so well hidden Ashleigh was almost certain no one but another person the same as he was, who believed little or nothing else besides learning as much of the Truth as possible had value and was intimately familiar with what someone who believed this looked like, would be aware it was there.

He continued to look at the books and papers while pretending his best he wasn't looking at them and maintained the expression as they rounded the dais and a blonde-haired and bearded person in white robes came into view. There was no emotion on his face, but Ashleigh knew what to look for and saw recognition in the Homunculus leader's eyes.

Good. The Dwarf in the Flask had seen evidence Ashleigh was a kindred spirit.

Ashleigh was fairly sure the Homunculus would believe it was real, as it was. Another of the psychological blind spots of someone who valued the Truth above almost everything and sought to master the Truth, besides his or her ability to identify those who were similar to him or her, was such a person believed he or she was more capable than others at uncovering the most well-hidden secrets. Thus, by making his expression so well hidden no one but the Dwarf in the Flask saw it, Ashleigh was fairly sure the Homunculus would be certain he'd seen a portion of how Ashleigh genuinely thought beneath the deception he might be attempting.

There was no reason to feel encouraged even slightly by his probable success at playing the Homunculus, though. Ashleigh was still just putting the initial stages of his plan into motion, and the Dwarf in the Flask was as dangerous an enemy as someone could choose to make his or her opponent.

Ashleigh was also aware there was a transmutation circle on one of the papers. It was indescribably more advanced than anything Ashleigh had encountered in his life, but he could tell its equation had something to do with the Portal of Truth from his parents' research.

But what was its purpose? Was it the circle for sacrificing the five alchemists who had attempted human transmutation, or the circle for opening the Gateway to God and assuming God into oneself?

"So," Wrath questioned, "Did you kill Dante?"

The elder Crichton was caught off guard by that, but the years he'd spent hiding his identity and goals from the Cretans he'd served with had taught him how to keep his act from falling apart when he was caught off guard, and how to adapt his act to the unexpected. He reacted instinctively, letting just the right amount of surprise and concern show through his hidden interest in the books and papers it would further convince the Homunculus leader Ashleigh valued the Truth above little or nothing else.

He wasn't worried the Dwarf in the Flask would now know for sure Ashleigh was working with Dante. Ashleigh would need the Homunculus leader to know that later, and he knew the Homunculi couldn't pass the opportunity Ashleigh had given them up even if they were sure he was allied with Dante.

"I got a hold of her Philosopher's Stone," the Homunculus leader responded, giving Wrath a surreptitious shift of his eyes that was no doubt meant to communicate to Wrath the Dwarf in the Flask was now sure Ashleigh was allied with Dante and needed to be watched even more closely than Wrath had doubtlessly intended to watch him, "But she prevented me from absorbing it by separating ordinary Stones from it and adding them to my transmutation, causing a rebound. Then she fled, into an underground labyrinth she dug through transmutation while journeying through." Ashleigh concealed his relief, and also knew it was even more essential now the Homunculi not discover he possessed a Crimson Star. His Crimson Star was integral to his plot, so if the Homunculi learned he had one it would be a disaster, but it was now even more important he keep his possession of one secret, because if its existence was discovered, the Dwarf in the Flask could take it from Ashleigh by transmuting it out of his body. "I didn't encounter Greed or Dante's Homunculi, so they were elsewhere or escaped with her."

Ashleigh trusted Dante to reach him with information about her new location once she hid herself somewhere, so he didn't worry about that.

Wrath's expression showed nothing of what he was feeling. "Regretful."

The Dwarf in the Flask turned to Ashleigh. "So this is the Cretan sacrifice."

Ashleigh inclined his head. "My name is Lieutenant Colonel Herschel. You're the power behind the throne in Amestris, I take it? Whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

"My name is irrelevant," the Homunculus responded. "All you need to know is your offer of service is accepted, and I am thankful for it. As well as what we're going to do with you for now.

"You'll be given a room in this underground complex until the time comes for you to fulfill your role in my aspirations. Until then, you'll be given free reign of this complex so long as you don't interfere with, or eavesdrop on, anything going on inside it, and you'll be watched closely to ensure you don't try any of those things. It's all right if you explore Central while you're here, so long as you're not sighted inside the Central Command Center or its grounds, but if you leave Central and don't contact Bradley by phone with your location and intentions within four hours after your departure, I will consider you a threat to Amestris' security and command Bradley to arrest you or kill you at my discretion. I will also consider you a threat should you be sighted inside the Central Command Center or discovered interfering with or eavesdropping on the happenings in this complex, and arrest you or kill you. Are these conditions satisfactory?"

Ashleigh wasn't surprised at the Homunculus' willingness to allow him to move throughout the underground complex. If the Homunculi weren't confident they could thwart whatever Ashleigh's part in Dante's objective was, Ashleigh wouldn't have been brought into this chamber.

"Yes," Ashleigh replied. "You may be assured I won't do anything to betray the trust you're placing in me."

"You'll forgive us if we're skeptical of that," the Homunculus leader said. "Nevertheless, now we're in agreement, I bid you welcome to the conclave that will at last realize the uttermost desire of alchemy, and of all life.

"With our partnership established, I have no further use for you at present. Bradley will show you to your quarters now."

"Very well," Ashleigh said back.

The Fϋhrer gestured with his head for the older Crichton to follow him, and then walked to the entrance they'd come through. Ashleigh followed.

Now the true contest began.

.

Ed, his hood up over a head pain now rarely moved through, sat in the furthest back seat of the car they'd stolen from Central as Jerso, wearing a light green civilian shirt and dark brown pants, sat next to him and read today's issue of _The Pigeon_ , the city's most popular newspaper, purchased with a portion of the Cenz he'd been carrying. Heinkel sat on Edward's other side in a light blue shirt and white pants, and in the middle seats Al sat in faded white rags with a hood up between Darius, in a black shirt and tan pants, and Zampano, in a red shirt and black pants. Julia sat in the driver's seat, looking back at them.

They were parked by a sidewalk in front of a convenience store in Kelyair, a multi-level city on a steppe that resembled East City, although what Ed had seen so far didn't look as wealthy and more large business-owned buildings had been interspersed throughout it. It was the day after their confrontation with Huskisson.

Jerso cursed.

"What is it?" Ed asked.

"There's an article in here about a dinner to celebrate the successful relocation of one of Kelyair's most important businesses to New Liore the Mayor," Jerso replied, "Who is in charge of most of Kelyair's businesses and urged them to participate in the New Liore initiative, attended. It says the Mayor's 'long, dark green hair,'" Ed clenched his teeth, "Was in a braid. Since dark green hair isn't a natural hair color, and the Mayor is behind the businesses relocating, there's little guess as to who the Mayor is."

"Indeed," Ed spoke. Envy was the Mayor of Kelyair and in charge of most of its businesses. That told them where High Command had been getting the funding for its illicit activities from.

Edward's insides twisted violently at his awareness he might have to battle a member of his family again soon, but he couldn't make a different choice with Envy any more than he could have made a different choice with Patricia and Joshua.

"If the governor of Kelyair is a Homunculus," Edward went on, "Exposing High Command's plot to the Mayor isn't an option. We'll have to go to the businesses themselves, and that means convincing more than one person we can be trusted. Further, that would have been harder than we'd thought even if Pride hadn't ruined my reputation. Since Envy oversees the businesses, they'll be unlikely to believe anyone their patron is setting them up without proof."

"That's correct," Jerso replied.

"Does the paper say anything about how far along the relocation is?"

"I'll keep reading."

Ed nodded and looked out the window to see an upper class husband and wife with the mother pushing a carriage with a baby in it walk by on the sidewalk opposite the window, but his mind wasn't on the world outside the car. Al still hadn't talked about or given evidence of how he felt now about his selfishness, willingness to murder, and all the rest, and Edward extremely highly doubted he would any time soon. That was anguish of its own. Ed knew his brother and knew how Al felt, but Edward didn't know the specifics, and not knowing them made Edward feel even more useless as Alphonse's brother.

How could Edward even _call_ himself Al's brother now? He'd robbed Al of his body and mind; trapped him in unfeeling metal that couldn't sleep; failed to free him of it for years; been helpless to comfort him when his reality had become terrible and Winry had been arrested; abandoned him to the torture of believing his life had been a lie, torture that had been so incomprehensibly horrible defying the thought he'd started to commit suicide; and had turned him into a selfish and exploitative person who treated humans as ingredients one could buy for spare change and was willing to commit murder. And even after doing all that to him _still_ Edward was abandoning Al to his suffering; he was _still_ sitting back and letting it happen, as always unable to do a thing to rescue him from it. No matter how much Alphonse suffered Ed had _never_ been able to save him from it. Edward did an excellent job at _inflicting_ suffering on Al, but he could never pull Al out of it.

Al _was_ an only child. Edward wasn't Al's brother. He was a sadistic, apathetic, indescribably harmful, neglectful stranger who claimed to love Al and then turned his back on Alphonse and left him swallowed by the abyss. He was no better than Hohenheim. Even if Edward could violently retch everything inside every millimeter of his body for eternity he wouldn't have enough throw up for what he was.

How could Edward call Winry his sister, whether that felt wrong or not? It hadn't been enough for him to imprison her, turn her into a willing murderer, hurl her into a bottomless chasm of guilt, and fail to do anything to support her. He'd walked away from protecting her from the one thing there _was_ a possibility, however ludicrous it looked, he could protect her from, the soldiers searching for her to imprison her or kill her, and was now countless miles away from her when he should be at her side trying to prevent that from happening. He wasn't Winry's brother. He was her customer and nothing more.

He was successfully moving forward, he wasn't as uncomfortable with the words and actions Mustang and other Amestrian soldiers might have or had spoken and taken in Ishval, reality was even less frightening now, Mustang's break down was relatively easier to live with, he was nowhere near as terrified Winry would become a component of a Stone as he was she'd be recaptured or killed, and he was searching for a way to move forward from Nina's and Hawkeye's murders, even though he didn't know how he could think of one with everything torturing him, but he was still as helpless and neglectful as before. He had reason to believe he'd never again do to Al what he'd done to him after returning to Resembool, but how much did that really matter when Edward was still powerless to take care of him or Winry?

Accepting the Truth, facing the Truth, not doing nothing, learning from his mistakes, moving forward. They'd prevent him from making catastrophic mistakes again, but what did they genuinely mean, when they weren't improving anything?

Ed had no idea.

He didn't know how much time had passed as he sat there, gazing out the window but not fully seeing anything outside, when Jerso talked. "I'm finished with the paper."

Ed pushed his thoughts and feelings to the side as best he could and turned to face the Chimera ex-soldier. "What have you learned?"

"Around a third of the businesses that haven't relocated to New Liore yet are in the process of doing so," Jerso responded. "The others still haven't announced whether they plan to aid the venture. But Kelyair isn't the only place supporting the initiative. A good number of businesses and employees from other villages, towns, and cities have moved to New Liore."

Ed swore.

"I did learn two things that might help us, though," Jerso continued.

"Oh?" Alphonse questioned.

"Major Armstrong has been stationed here to guard the government officials," Jerso replied. "You told us his family is being held hostage, so he can't warn any of the businesses their Mayor is setting them up, but he might be able to support us in working with a person who could be able to warn them."

Edward started. There was someone else here the businesspeople might trust, and who might believe Ed hadn't murdered Missus Bradley?

"Who would that be?" Ed asked.

"Shortly after the businesses here began moving to New Liore," Jerso replied, "A thief started stealing valuables from locations around Kelyair. She calls herself the Wraith, and she operates by leaving a letter at the store, museum, or other place she intends to hit informing them she's going to strike and what she's going to take, then uses alchemy to steal the valuable when it's being guarded." Edward's stomach twisted. Not again. "Her alias and modus operandi match those of a burglar who was stealing valuables from the town of Aquroya, in the East."

"We can't ask her for help," Ed interrupted. "When Al, Teacher, and I made a deal with Greed, it likely opened the door for him attempting human transmutation. If we form an alliance with a criminal out for her own aggrandizement, and not for a cause, there's too much of a risk we'll get one or more people hurt. She isn't an option."

Jerso gave Edward an irritated look. "Let me finish. The person who wrote the article on her thefts has no idea what her motives are, but I'm fairly sure I know why she's stealing. Aquroya was built on an island that is sinking into a lake; Kelyair's economy will collapse if too many of its businesses move to New Liore, dooming the city; and the people of Aquroya and the people of Kelyair both love the Wraith. That Aquroya and Kelyair have these things in common, and no other connection but that they're nearing the end of their lifespans and thus no other reason for the Wraith to move from one urban area to the other, tells me something. The Wraith made headlines in Aquroya and is making headlines in Kelyair to give the people of the town and the city one last period during which something interesting is happening to their home, something that made and makes living in the condemned places worthwhile." Hope rose. That didn't make the Wraith that much better than Scar, but it did mean cooperating with her had a better chance of not leading to disaster, so if Ed could be willing to work with Scar, he could be willing to work with her. "Her robberies were a present to the citizens of Aquroya, and are a gift to the citizens of Kelyair, ones that were and are more genuine than the incentives the national government is giving Kelyair's people to resettle in New Liore, even though they look the opposite. The Wraith isn't out for herself. She's out for others, just like we are.

"But she's still a criminal, so she may be willing to give you the time of day."

"I stand corrected," Ed conceded. "I assume, then, part of your idea is to meet up with her, tell her what Envy's up to, and try to convince her to help us look for files in the government offices in Kelyair that talk about Envy's plans? Then, if any exist, you want her to show them to the heads of the businesses who haven't moved, because you believe they'll trust her word the documents are real because of what she's doing for the city, not relocate, and covertly spread the word to other businesses in the nation not to do so, correct?" Edward wished he could ask the Wraith to ask the businesspeople to talk to the military, but he knew better than to believe soldiers and officers would trust a businessperson's claim the Fϋhrer sought the destruction of the nation. "Am I following?"

"You do," Jerso responded.

They had a plan, then. After the plan for launching a revolution that wouldn't cause death had collapsed, and all the damage Ed had done, he knew better than to believe they could pull it off, and there was a much greater chance they wouldn't find incriminating files in a government office than there'd been they wouldn't find incriminating documents in the Dwarf in the Flask's base, so there were good reasons to believe they'd fail that had nothing to do with Edward's incompetence. Additionally, Edward didn't need to believe this to keep terror from eating him.

But not believing they could pull this off wouldn't stop him from trying his hardest to succeed.

"How do you think we should get in touch with her, then?" Alphonse asked. "Should we wait for her to commit another crime and catch her?"

"That may not be necessary," Jerso spoke back. "There was another article in the paper I have reason to believe will prove helpful. Two days ago, an orphanage on the verge of declaring bankruptcy did so and was levelled, and a woman named Clara, who was previously working there, gained a job at a pharmacy running out of funds. According to the article, before she worked at the orphanage, this woman taught at a schoolhouse losing the Cenz it needed to continue running until it was destroyed, and then acquired a position at the orphanage."

Ed saw what Jerso was thinking. "You believe this 'Clara' is the Wraith? And she's been taking jobs at locations on the verge of going out of business so the civilians who are aware why she's been committing robberies will identify Clara as the burglar and see the places as going out with a bang due to her association with them?"

"Indeed," Jerso nodded.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Julia spoke. "Let's buy a map of Kelyair."

.

The pharmacy was a small wooden building with a number of parts in varying states of disrepair named _The Bane of Germs_ , and though all the shelves Edward saw inside it were fully stocked, there weren't enough lamps inside to fully light the place. It was obvious the business was in danger of failing and channeling what money it had left into continuing to run.

A tall male with long brown hair and a mustache was working behind the counter in the back.

"Yes, Clara's here," the male replied to Heinkel's question. "She's cleaning up the trash in the back. Why do you want to see her specifically?"

"That's between her and us," Heinkel responded. "Could you please tell her we share her interest in heists that have made a difference in the stream of history, and we'll be waiting for her shift to end in the playground in Tortoise Park? She'll know who we are."

The pharmacist shrugged. "Sure thing. Now, is there anything you'd like to purchase?"

"I'm afraid not," Heinkel responded. "We'll be on our way."

The male sighed. "That's what I thought you'd say. Ah, well. It doesn't matter. Your patronage would do nothing but delay the inevitable."

.

The Sun had almost vanished from sight behind the highest level of the steppe when a woman in a gray-and-white striped shirt and light brown pants, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, walked around the hill on the stone path leading to the playground, a way look on her face. Seeing it, Edward knew Jerso had been correct. Those weren't the wary eyes of an ordinary woman.

When the woman saw Ed, Al, Julia, and the Chimeras standing around or near the curving open-air slide and the swing set, she picked up her pace, until she was standing on a stone section of the playground before a hopscotch inscription painted on the stone.

"I'm here," the woman spoke, tone guarded. "I'm Clara. You obviously know my alter-ego, so if this is a trap, would you please do me a favor and spring it without any talk on your part? I'd prefer to take this time planning my next theft, so I'd be thankful if you'd give me the chance to escape your trap without wasting time failing to trick me into dropping my guard."

Ed walked forward and lowered his hood, and Clara's eyes went wide. "This is no trap. You probably won't believe this, but we want to form a partnership with you that will work to our mutual advantage."

Clara reached a hand up her left sleeve, took out a deck of cards, and shifted her fingers, and the cards extended upwards, revealing the top two cards were curved and the top card was pointed. The cards were now a blade, and Edward knew they were hard enough and sharp enough to function as one. She took a guard position, but then she looked closely into Ed's eyes. Surprised, Edward blinked.

"You don't have a murderer's eyes," Clara addressed him. "That's good. I have no problems with killing myself if I absolutely have to," Ed clenched his teeth, "To succeed in my line of work, but I'd rather children not take the lives of others. I had no reason to disbelieve Selim's story, but I prefer to verify tales like that myself if I can. I'm glad I was given the opportunity.

"That doesn't give me any reason to trust you genuinely want to partner with me, though. And even if you do, I make it a point not to stick my neck into political conflicts any further than investigating what they are if I run into a political mystery. Yes, I want to give the people here one last reason to be glad they're living in Kelyair, but not if it means going up against Mayor Nevo. So I advise you to convince me there's a reason to continue this conversation. Otherwise, I'm leaving. I have thousands of townsfolk relying on me."

"So do we," Edward spoke. "In Kelyair and New Liore. The national government's incentive in New Liore is a deception. High Command wants to repopulate the area the previous residents abandoned so they can send an army of transmuted mannequins there to kill everyone in New Liore," Clara's eyebrows rose skeptically, "As part of a massive alchemical endeavor they're undertaking that needs to be powered by human blood. This endeavor is one of the reasons we're fugitives… We want to stop it from succeeding, and prevent anyone else from being lost to it."

"You have proof of this where?" Clara questioned.

"We don't," Ed told her. "We know it's really happening, but we can't prove it. But we're hoping proof lies in the government offices, and we want your help because, if proof does exist, you're the only person the businesses here might believe if they're shown proof we can go to for assistance. What will be the harm in working with us? If we're telling the truth, you'll be able to save Kelyair from becoming a ghost city and do something more meaningful for its people than what you've already done, so it's to your benefit to give us a chance. If we're lying, we clearly don't intend to turn you in; you know we can't do that because we're fugitives ourselves. So could you please give us the benefit of the doubt? I know Major Armstrong, and he's aware of High Command's plot, but the Fϋhrer arrested his family to ensure his continued obedience, so he can't go to the heads of the businesses."

"That would tell me why the head of the Armstrong family and his wife and daughters are being held in this city," Clara replied, and Ed's eyes widened, hope surging. Perhaps they could accomplish more here than putting an end to the New Liore experiment.

Additionally, that meant they didn't need to work with Clara. If they freed Armstrong's family, Armstrong could expose Envy.

No. That was incorrect. They didn't know where in Kelyair Armstrong's family was being held. Even if they didn't ally with Clara to expose the New Liore plot, they'd need to ally with her to free the Armstrongs; she needed to take Edward and his comrades to them. If Ed and his companions attempted to free them themselves and didn't find them and reach them fast enough, the military might become aware someone was trying to free them and get them out of Kelyair before Ed and his companions located them.

Further, that meant it was better for them to work with Clara to expose Envy. The heads of the businesses were more likely to believe a popular burglar than a State Alchemist who was usually stationed in Central.

"Soldiers brought them here under the cover of night around the time Major Armstrong was assigned here," Clara told them. "I followed them and infiltrated the prison to sate my curiosity about why they'd been brought as prisoners to Kelyair, but they couldn't tell me anything. All they knew was they'd been arrested weeks ago and moved around the country from prison to prison for an unknown reason. I assumed that was to keep Major General Olivier from finding them and breaking them out, and the two Armstrongs serving in the military were being blackmailed, but I had no idea why the national government would feel the need to threaten them.

"Your story answers that question. But I have no reason to believe it's the _true_ answer. Still, their presence here vouches for your honesty."

Zampano walked forward, and Edward clenched his teeth, his stomach heaving. He knew they might not be able to gain Clara's help any other way, and the danger to Amestris posed by the nationwide transmutation circle was too important for them not to say they'd do this, but this was much worse than accepting the assistance from and working with someone like Scar, Greed, or Clara, or being the same as Tucker and the Dwarf in the Flask. This was _aiding and abetting_ someone in an amoral cause. Ed wouldn't just be like alchemists who saw humans as laboratory samples and convenience store compounds you could buy for spare change if he let Zampano say this, he'd be actively _supporting_ someone akin to them, even though she was nowhere near as unscrupulous.

If they helped one kind of amorality in order to put an end to another, what exactly were they fighting for?

"Major Armstrong can't help us," Zampano put in, "But he can help you. If you lend us your assistance in preventing the national government from setting up a slaughter at New Liore, whether we succeed or not, we'll ask Major Armstrong to write a letter to the Armstrong family servants instructing them to admit you to the Armstrong family mansion in Central and to put on an act where they pretend to attempt to stop you from robbing it of all of Major Armstrong's valuables, which we'll ask him to tell you the location of. If you appear to have successfully stolen from the mansion of one of the most well-regarded families in Central, this will increase your notoriety and make it easier for you to cause people to feel like something important is happening in whatever urban area you go to next, whether you return to Aquroya or travel somewhere else. How does that sound?"

Clara assumed a thoughtful expression, and after numerous seconds gave a slightly irritated smile. "All right." Edward clenched his teeth, and didn't thank her. They had no reason to trust _she_ wasn't the one lying and wouldn't try to see _them_ arrested. "As you query, what would be the harm? And the infamy I'd gain from 'burgling' the Armstrong family mansion would indeed support my endeavors to give worth to the last days of dying cities, towns, and villages. I still don't want to get involved in a political conflict, but it won't hurt, and the people I want to provide for are more important than my aversion to politics."

She extended her free hand to Edward, but he didn't shake it.

Clara snorted. "Grow up, Fullmetal Alchemist. Don't object to the life I lead. The world is irrecoverably crooked. People who live moral, upstanding lives can't make a difference in a world like this. In order to improve it, you have to accept the rotten hand of cards life deals you and play them, not discard that hand for a better one that doesn't exist. If you do, the predators in reality will be able to toy with you and devour you however and whenever they choose. You have to play their game to beat them. Not all the time – philosophy, religion, and law _have_ made things better for people throughout history even though they've hurt people too – but sometimes there's no other choice you can make. You should keep that in mind if you want to save the people in Amestris High Command is planning to exploit. Knights in shining armor who are paragons of virtue don't exist outside of children's storybooks."

Ed glared at her and refused to dignify that with a counterargument, but inside he was shaken. He was fully aware they wouldn't have even had a chance at launching a revolution that didn't result in death if they hadn't made a deal with Greed.

But Clara couldn't be correct. If she was, that meant no one could prevent wrongs without committing wrongs, and that made fighting against the amoral pointless.

"Don't try to kill anyone while you're with us," was his reply. "If you do, I'll stop you."

Clara rolled her eyes. "I try to avoid murder and I don't want to see our alliance fall apart, so fine, whatever. But you should be aware that means little when you can't keep my struggles from resulting in death all the time. If you don't sacrifice yourselves to turn me in you're giving me the freedom to kill at a later time." Horror consumed Edward. He hadn't thought of that. "Further, any assistance you give me will improve my standing in the eyes of the people and makes it more likely they'll attack police officers on my behalf, potentially getting them killed, and I can buy better weapons with the Armstrong valuables. You're already no shining shield. So ditch the lofty perch, if you would."

"I'm not standing on a lofty perch," Edward said. "But what I'll ditch will be the alliance with you."

"Edward, we can't!" Zampano cried.

"We have to!" Ed shouted. "You heard her. Any help we give her might lead to deaths that otherwise wouldn't have happened! And if we don't ensure she's arrested," Clara's stance became more guarded, "That might also lead to deaths that otherwise wouldn't have happened! We have to defeat her, and think of a way to turn her into the police!"

"There is no way and you know it," Darius interjected. "And you know you can't prevent everyone you encounter in the world from killing all the time. Otherwise you would have tried to stop your alchemy teacher from meeting with Major General Armstrong. Don't be a fool and head down a path you know full well leads nowhere."

Ed ground his teeth. Darius was right. Edward _had_ already been aware of that. He just hadn't wanted to admit to himself the situation he'd been in with Teacher hadn't been a rarity, something unusual that wouldn't happen often in life.

 _But then why are you fighting to prevent others from killing for any reason, if you know that?_

Ed searched for an answer, pushing aside strong doubt, but he couldn't find one. But it didn't matter. After what Winry had tried to do, after he'd thought Al was dead, Ed had to. Even if, assuming he could prevent any death, he couldn't prevent everyone he met from murdering for any reason all the time.

"That doesn't mean we can work with her, though!" Edward cried. "If we do, we'll be actively supporting efforts that might lead to death!"

"We don't know they will for sure," Darius responded, "And even if they do, by that reasoning, you shouldn't be traveling with the four of us as companions. By accompanying us and giving us greater numbers and the support of transmutations, you're making it easier for us to live as fugitives, which increases the chance we'll kill again in the future if the coup succeeds, the military changes, and we're allowed to rejoin it."

Reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled violently. That was true as well. The doubt grew into something crushing. If that was correct, if he could prevent that little death even if he was capable of preventing any killing, why _was_ he struggling to prevent others from killing for any reason?

No. It couldn't be right. He couldn't be powerless to prevent that little death. There had to be a way Darius hadn't thought of.

"Additionally," Darius spoke on, "The deathless revolution you dreamed of launching would have increased the chance the soldiers who believed you would pick battles with soldiers loyal to Bradley on their own initiative, and death would result. If Clara reveals Envy's plans to the businesses in Kelyair, _they_ might assault police officers, or they might pick fights with loyal soldiers, potentially resulting in death. You know that, too. If you want to prevent death when you're not around people, you shouldn't be associating with anyone willing to engage in violence or anything there's a good chance violence will be required to settle… And even that's no certainty you won't be actively supporting endeavors that might cause death. Everything existing in reality can lead to death. And you're fully aware of that.

"If you want to attempt to prevent death, go ahead, but don't refuse to work with other people because doing so might result in death when you're not around them. If you do that, you're shooting yourself in the foot and throwing up roadblocks in the way of preventing death."

"You don't know that," Edward disagreed. "There might be a way we haven't found yet." If we free Armstrong's family, we don't need Clara to alert the businesspeople. She can tell us where Armstrong's family is and we can free them, then bring Major Armstrong in on our plan."

"Now you're in denial," Zampano spoke up, "And you're aware of it. We need Clara to free Armstrong's family, so Major Armstrong would have to set up fake robberies of his mansion to give her a reason to assist us in freeing them, and you know that well."

Ed fisted his hands so hard his left nails drew blood from his palm. He _did_ know that. He was running away from the truth again. Darius' words were all irrefutable, Clara wouldn't take them to Armstrong's family if she wasn't getting something in return, and Edward recognized all that clearly. Edward _was_ actively supporting paths that might lead to death, and couldn't avoid doing so.

But if Darius' words were true, _was_ there any point in being determined to keep others from killing? Was it as futile a battle as his and Al's journey to regain their bodies and Julia's studies of the Portal of Truth and the Philosopher's Stone had been?

No. It couldn't be. He wasn't living in a bubble that just consisted of himself and his brother, or attempting alchemy that defied the One and the All, whether Equivalent Exchange existed or not. He was trying to save others. Attempting to save others couldn't be for nothing, even if he couldn't save anywhere near as many as he wanted to. Not with how horrific death was and how priceless life was. That couldn't be fleeing the Truth any more than believing there was no way at all to avert death could be fleeing the Truth. Reality wasn't that sadistic.

The Chimeras were correct. He couldn't withdraw his partnership with Clara. But he wouldn't give up on his determination not to let others kill.

He glared, but he didn't know what other person he was glaring at or whether he was glaring at himself. "Fine," he grated. "I'll stick with Clara."

Clara gave him an amused smile. "I'm happy to hear that," she said. "And do keep in mind I spoke I try to avoid murdering other people. There's a very good chance I won't kill anyone if you ally with me. But no matter how few the lives are I take, your hands aren't stainless."

Ed turned his glare directly at her. "I never spoke I was," he told her. "I'm stained in ways even you probably wouldn't be willing to be, and I'm not hiding from it."

Clara's eyebrows rose, and then she gave him a more genuine smile. "You do possess a degree of maturity. It's nice knowing that."

Edward cringed. Clara's expression showed surprise, but she didn't question.

"So," she asked, "Are we off to Mayor Nevo's residential offices tonight, or do you want to wait for another time?"

"There's no time like the near future," Heinkel put in. "We'd like to strike tonight, if you're okay with that."

Blue shone over Clara's shoulders – there had to be a transmutation circle on the skin of her upper back – and then crackled over her body, and her clothes shifted into accoutrements that fully covered her body, save for an open area around her mouth that extended up to the sides of her nose and around her eyes. Most of her clothes became white, excepting the portion over her face, that became light gray, and her shoes, that had previously been purple, became white too.

"I'm fine with that." Clara gave an eager smile that Ed could tell was just partially forced. "Let's go ensure New Liore _doesn't_ go out with a bang."

.

"I can't see a path that doesn't lead to death."-Jacen Solo

STAR WARS:

LEGACY OF THE FORCE:

BETRAYAL


	21. Theory of Jealousy

.

 **CHAPTER 21:**

 **THEORY OF JEALOUSY**

.

The blue of an unfamiliar transmutation circle coursed in an equation beneath the white cloth on Clara's upper back and down into the pitcher Clara had transmuted to fill with water from an aqueduct in Kelyair, and a worm-shaped gathering of water arced up out of it and onto the sidewalk. Edward's eyes widened as it moved along the sidewalk, maintaining cohesion, and crawled around the corner of the wall they were hiding behind, one surrounding the yard of a house.

It irritated Ed to admit it to himself, but Clara was skilled. She hadn't given them any evidence she was nearly as skilled as Scar at combat, but she was a skilled alchemist. Edward knew it would take a lot of study for him to be able to control the movement of unfrozen water that well while keeping it together.

The black-uniformed guards patrolling the back wall of the combined residence and office Envy lived in saw the water worm as it moved down the street towards them, and pointed their guns at it. It didn't make any moves to attack them, though, so they didn't fire as it moved into the street running parallel to the back wall of the government office's grounds.

Then it heated into steam.

The guards cried out as a thick cloud of steam spread out around them and expanded in all directions, out along the sidewalk and street behind the government office's grounds and down the street towards where Ed and his companions, including Julia, were. Ed knew they might end up in a fight with Envy, but Julia shouldn't be in as much danger facing one Homunculus as she'd be in facing multiple Homunculi, and they had no one to watch her, so they'd taken her with them.

When the steam reached them, Clara broke into a run towards the wall separating the back yard of the government offices from the rest of Kelyair, and Ed and the others followed. The guards moved in the direction of their footsteps, but Ed and the Chimeras moved towards them before they drew close enough to see them and fire, and were on them faster than they could react. Ed seized the guard he reached and flipped the male over his shoulder, slamming him to the street on the back of his head, Heinkel and Zampano dropped their opponents with a punch and kick to the sides of their heads, respectively, and Jerso put his fingers on his enemy's throat and applied a precise amount of force to it, knocking him out.

Then they climbed up over the wall, or jumped to the top and down into the yard, and were inside.

"There's something I need to warn you about," Ed told Clara. "The Mayor is another alchemically created human," her eyes went wide, "Similar to the mannequins we told you about, but far more malleable. He can shift his shape into virtually anything. Be prepared for the unexpected if we meet him."

"I always am," Clara assured him, and Edward nodded.

"Good."

He raced to a back wall of the large white building in front of them, clapped his hands, and touched the wall, transmuting an open doorway in crackling blue. They passed through it into a hallway extending to both sides with blue carpeting stretching from one wall to the other, and he clapped his hands and touched the wall to the side of the doorway, returning it to its original appearance in more blue energies.

"Let's find Major Armstrong first," Heinkel spoke up. "Darius and I have a more acute sense of smell than regular humans." Clara looked at him, and he said, "Zampano, Jerso, Darius, and I are Chimeras. Do you know what a Chimera is?"

"I've heard of them," Clara responded. "I wasn't aware they could be made out of humans, though."

Zampano clenched his teeth. "Regrettably, they can be. It's difficult, but not impossible."

"As Heinkel was saying," Darius put in, "We have a more acute sense of smell than ordinary humans. We know what Major Armstrong smells like from before we were transmuted into Chimeras. If we explore this complex, we'll be able to tell you when we're closer to him."

"All right," Ed said. "We'll do that."

They walked as quietly as they could down the hallways of the government complex, taking detours down other hallways whenever they reached an open door light shone through. Ed knew it might just be a matter of time until they reached an open doorway they couldn't take a detour around, and his fears proved true. After an unknown amount of time exploring the offices and residence, they reached a group of corridors with at least one open door in every one. Worse, every time Edward looked around the corner of the door or doorway into the rooms, he saw officials in formal black or servants.

After looking into the nearest of the open lighted doors in the corridor with the least amount of open lighted doors, two total, and seeing two maids and a woman in gab that implied she was probably a secretary inside, Ed cringed and kept himself from looking at his brother. But he clenched his teeth. They had no choice.

He looked back at Clara, and she gave Edward a look that was partially sympathetic, partially exasperated. Then she put her pitcher on the blue carpet and blue light coursed over her and into it, and another water worm arced up onto the floor. It crawled in front of the door and burst into steam, and once the steam spread into the chamber Ed squeezed his eyes closed tightly and then rushed inside with Jerso and Heinkel. He rushed one of the maids, and with three chops to the backs of the neck, one from each of them, the women were on the floor. There was a cry from the other room, and they ran back into the hall to see Clara hurl hard, sharp cards around an official in black to embed themselves in the wall behind him, causing him to freeze. Zampano darted up to him and drove his elbow into his stomach, sending him to the floor unconscious.

He looked inside the room the official had emerged from, and nodded.

All clear.

Zampano dragged the official into the room he'd come out of, then they turned the lights off in the two rooms, closed the doors, and moved on.

They encountered one more series of open, lighted doors they couldn't detour around. Clara sent a water worm into a single open door in coursing blue, it detonated into steam, and Ed and the Chimeras ran inside and dropped five male servants and four female government officials in black with blows to the stomach and neck. A number of minutes later, Darius sniffed and told them, "Armstrong's ahead and to the left."

Ed didn't let himself feel relief, though. There was no guarantee they wouldn't have to assault more noncombatants before they were able to gain his help.

But they saw no more open lighted doors until they'd turned three corners, and when they did, Darius gestured at it and told them, "Armstrong's in there, and there are no other smells coming from inside."

Edward sighed heavily in relief.

He crept up to the door and looked around it to see a large, tall gym inside with mats covering the whole floor. Major Armstrong was doing pull-ups on a bar high up on the wall the doorway was in to the left, his shirt off.

"Major Armstrong!" Ed called quietly.

Armstrong looked to the side, saw Ed, and his eyes widened. He let go of the bar and dropped to the mat beneath him. "Edward!" he cried. "What are you doing here!?"

"Have you heard of the Wraith?" Ed asked back.

"Yes," Armstrong responded. "Why?"

Edward gestured for the others to enter, and they did. When Armstrong saw Clara, his eyes went wide. "She's been stealing valuables here for an altruistic reason, to make living in Kelyair as it dies interesting, so the heads of the businesses here may believe her if we find evidence of High Command's illicit operations here and she uses it to expose to them why High Command really wants people to build New Liore. We're hoping you'll assist us in this in two ways. One is to tell us where incriminating evidence might be, and the other is for you to enhance Clara's notoriety by requesting your servants to put on a show pretending to try to stop her from stealing the valuables you own from your mansion in Central, and failing. Are you willing to say and do those things, please?"

"I can arrange for a show that will make Clara more infamous," the State Alchemist responded, "But you know of the situation my family is in. They were moved to a prison here to further discourage me from committing additional treason; if I do, the Mayor will be able to order them executed without High Command or the Fϋhrer having to hear about my crimes. The Mayor is in on the conspiracy. It's too dangerous for me to tell you where evidence might be located."

"We know about the Mayor," Heinkel said back, "And Clara knows where your family is. We're going to bust them out after we succeed or fail at acquiring evidence here." Hope showed in Armstrong's eyes.

"Then follow me," Armstrong said. "I'll take you to the government archives. I recommend you start looking for evidence there."

.

Olivier sat quietly as Major Miles finished his report.

She didn't even need to think about her response. "Yoki was warned," she replied. "He was clearly informed if he lied to the cooks about having carried out the work he was assigned in order to be fed again he would be thrown in prison. See it done."

"Yes, sir." Miles saluted.

Thus far, her plan was going well. A large number of Ishvalans had been convinced to come to Fort Briggs from various refugee camps and slums around Amestris, and were successfully instructing her troops in Ishvalan customs, mannerisms, manners, how they walked while praying, and more. Buccaneer had returned with Isaac McDougal before setting off for another refugee camp, and the former Freezer Alchemist, knowing the soldiers of Briggs fought best when they worked cohesively, had pledged to follow her orders without her needing to bring it up herself and was now being put through Briggs' harshest combat training so he'd be able to keep up with her soldiers when they launched their revolution. In addition, they'd almost gained the assistance of the approximate amount of Ishvalans Olivier wanted the help of. They hadn't been succeeding in everything; the soldiers Miles had ordered to take their saved up leave time to hunt down and free the Major General's family had yet to report in as having done so. The Fϋhrer had proven himself worthy of his position; her troops had contacted them with reports of evidence soldiers loyal to Bradley had been moving the Armstrongs from prison to prison so covertly even the forces of Briggs had been finding it extremely difficult to uncover evidence of their locations before they'd been moved again. That the Fϋhrer had been moving the Armstrongs in and of itself also proved he was worthy of his position; there was no question he was doing it because he knew it was possible Olivier might be searching for them.

But Olivier wasn't worried much. Her soldiers were best at defensive warfare, but they were also highly capable of carrying out most other types of warfare when the situation called for it, and their experience locating and extracting hostages in a nation the size of Drachma had made rescuing hostages another one of their strengths. Her forces could save her parents and younger sister from High Command; she knew it surpassing doubt.

One of the soldiers seated at the bank of radios turned to her. "Sir!" he cried. "Briggs Mountain Lookout Point I is under attack by an unknown assailant!"

Olivier pushed what little worry she did have for her family out of her mind. She was certain it wouldn't distract her, but she wasn't going to take the chance she was wrong. In spite of what she'd learned about herself when her family had been taken hostage she still fully trusted herself not to lose her objectivity because people close to her were in danger, but not taking precautions was the path of a fool.

"What can Mountain Patrol tell about the identity of the assailants?" she questioned. "Do they appear to be Drachman or Amestrian?"

The soldier questioned, "Who does it appear is striking?" into his headphones, then was silent.

"They don't know, sir!"

Then Olivier was free to respond however she chose. If Amestris was aware of her treachery and launching a strike against Briggs or probing her defenses, her family wouldn't be murdered if she fought back when she didn't know she was battling Amestris.

"Do they have an estimation of their numbers?" she asked.

"How many are attacking?" the soldier inquired.

Quiet, then, "It appears to be just one assailant." The soldier sounded surprised.

Like the mysterious incident around fifteen years ago before she'd been stationed here, when an unknown woman had stolen food and supplies from the Mountain Patrol squads. Was it the same person? And if it was, what did it mean the woman was assaulting them now? Was she an agent of the Fϋhrer, executing the opening stages of Central's plot for soaking Fort Briggs in blood?

Whoever it was, the Major General had no intentions of giving him or her the chance to achieve what he or she had come here for.

Olivier stood up swiftly and ran to the soldier, taking the headphones from him and putting them on her head.

Point I was near a wooded area and at the base of a cliff.

"Order the combat-capable members of your squad to cease fire and fall back into the lookout, then set grenades at the base of the cliff behind you," Olivier ordered the Mountain Patrol troop on the other end of the line. Olivier didn't want to tell her troops to sacrifice themselves, but if this was the same woman as before, someone who had successfully raided multiple Mountain Patrol squads for around a month, she was highly dangerous and Olivier needed to use every means at her disposal to kill her. "Then call the squads from the six outposts nearest Lookout I into the forest near the lookout and have them take concealed positions to open fire on my command. Order those positions with rocket launchers to bring them. Should falling back lure out the attacker, you are to set off the grenades and cause an avalanche. If this doesn't lure out your assailant, report it to me."

"Sir!" the soldier on the radio cried. Seconds passed, and then he shouted, "Everyone outside has been incapacitated, leaving just us two combat-capable, and there's a woman headed right for us!"

"Hit the ground before the bag wall," Olivier ordered, "Then when she reaches you both of you are to detonate grenades without throwing them!"

"Sir!" the soldier shouted.

More seconds passed, but to the Major General's surprise, there was no sound of explosions. As opposed to that, she could hear faint shouting, and then the soldier's voice sounded again. "She surrenders. She saw what we were going to do when she reached the wall of bags, she's not sure she can evade the explosions from this close a range, and she claims she's not a threat to us and attacked this outpost to get a hold of a radio she could use to call Fort Briggs so she could ask us to take her there as a captive. She claims to want to talk to you."

Olivier scowled. It was too much of a security risk to let a woman who had singlehandedly almost defeated a whole Briggs Mountain Patrol squad, a unit of soldiers whose individual members were all combat veterans and a match for a Briggs Mountain grizzly bear, inside the fort, captive or not. Olivier would much rather order her soldiers to set off their grenades, even though it wasn't a sure thing the sacrifice of her troops wouldn't be a waste, and then alert the rest of Mountain Patrol and have them improve their defenses and scour Briggs Mountain until the woman's death had been confirmed.

But she couldn't order a surrendering opponent killed. That was barbarism.

The Major General was furious. Never before had she led her soldiers in a battle that had ended with it uncertain who the victor would have been. She'd known she wasn't infallible, and one day she might engage in battle with an enemy she wouldn't defeat, but she'd never truly believed that time would come. Now, though, a single person had matched a unit of troops she was commanding, and possibly overmatched them, and Olivier burned with humiliation.

But she was too experienced a soldier and officer to let even emotions like these into her voice. With full professionalism, she spoke, "Arrest her and bring her here. Keep at least one gun trained on her at all times."

.

Armstrong crept up to the wooden double doors and pushed them open, then entered a short hallway beyond that led to two more wooden double doors. He pushed them open and walked into darkness beyond.

Edward and his seven other companions followed the State Alchemist through the two sets of doors and Al closed each set behind them, and after he'd closed the second set Armstrong reached to the side and flicked a light switch on a lamp on a small round shelf attached to the wall. When the light shone, it revealed they were standing at the entrance a huge, tall chamber with a light gray stone floor and a sectioned, vaulted ceiling in which a row of metal bookshelves filled with books and papers stretched to the side to their left and right a distance in front of them. Ed assumed similar rows extended past them.

The Strong Arm Alchemist turned off the lighter and put it down.

He looked to the sides, and saw a tan-furred cat sleeping to the side of the doors. He blinked. What was a cat doing in here?

If he hadn't changed his ways, he extremely highly doubted he would have realized. But then he knew, and shouted, "Everyone, get away from the cat!"

His warning was barely in time. As the others ran or leapt backwards, the cat opened its eyes, that were glowing with red light, and its left forearm morphed into a long, thin, flat metal sheet with sharp edges and a sharp point and swung at them. Armstrong, who had been standing the closest, was gashed in his still unclothed chest, but when he moved back far enough Ed could tell the injury was superficial.

"You've changed," the cat said in a human voice as red coursed into the air from it and it shifted upwards and grew, "Pipsqueak." Edward didn't feel anything at the insult to his height. How could he care about it at all any more when he was such a horrific brother to Al? "From what I'd heard, you used to plunge rashly into trouble without using your brain, and got out for no other reason than you hadn't yet encountered a situation where you'd gotten in over your head due to your ability to transmute without a circle. I'd believed I'd be able to kill all your surviving companions before you became aware who I was. It's so frustrating when you clueless worms grow a mind."

The figure finished shifting, and now a young male with long dark green hair that fell in strands behind his back, to the sides of his head, and in front of it, with an Uroborus tattoo on his upper left leg was standing in front of them, eyes purple and no longer glowing.

A mixture of hope and terror filled Ed. Did Envy's presence here mean evidence of his crimes existed in this room and he was protecting it, or evidence had been here and he'd already destroyed all of it?

Alphonse walked away from them and stood near the shelves. "Brother," he said, "I won't try to convince you not to fight him, because I know I can't, but I'm staying out of it."

"I understand," Edward spoke to Al, insides twisting violently.

Envy frowned. "A human who doesn't delight in sending another scurrying around with his or her life in upheaval a single footstep. My sister told me what you morons believed in over the phone, but I didn't think it was _this_ bad."

"Al doesn't want to hurt his nephew," Ed responded. Envy's jaw dropped, Julia whirled to look at the two of them with wide eyes, and Clara's head whipped to them in surprise. "Seeing as you serve the Dwarf in the Flask loyally and call him your father, you should at least understand that. Or do you just call him 'Father' and serve him because he told you to and threatened to put you back in his soul if you didn't obey him?"

Envy scowled furiously. "We call him 'Father' and serve him because we love him, you filth! _You_ are the ones who don't understand what a family is! Don't you _dare_ call me your nephew, you repulsive worms!" Ed blinked. Envy's disregard for humans appeared to go further than just seeing them as inferior. He appeared to actively detest them, if not worse. What was going on inside him? "I could _never_ be tied to writhing mud-smeared vermin like you, not by the weakest thread!"

He glared at Ed furiously for several seconds, then smiled as if he'd been told a hilarious joke and looked at Al. "That established, you're the craziest human I've met in my life! You won't fight someone at all because you believe he's family? If I didn't know you were incapable of eating I'd take you as so drugged up you can't tell the difference between a mountain and a valley! Meeting you all is turning out to be so much more entertaining than I'd thought it would be!"

"I'm not getting into this again," Ed spoke. "How did you know we'd come here?"

"I didn't," Envy responded. "I didn't even know if you were still alive. But we knew if you were, this would be your most likely course of action. That's why Kimblee didn't look for your car and ruin it; he knew you must have one, due to the speed at which you reached Huskisson's, and he knew I'd rather spend a smaller number of nights waiting for you to arrive here if I could.

"And sure enough, you came calling. You did what we wanted you to do," every single drop of Ed's blood turned to freezing ice. What catastrophe had his actions caused this time? "As you humans usually do. Thanks a ton, pipsqueak."

"We did, huh?" Heinkel asked back. "I'd say the pleasure was ours, but I'd be telling one of the greatest lies I've told in my life. How did we dance at the end of your strings?"

Envy tilted his head, thinking. Then he shrugged. "It's usually stupid to reveal one's plans before they've succeeded, no matter how much of an advantage the developers of the plot have in carrying it out. But it doesn't matter whether I do or don't. The public sector businesses here trust me fully. Even if you escape, all I have to do is tell them I've personally seen the Fullmetal Alchemist, and everything will function like clockwork. So I'll let you in on the big secret. If I don't, I'll miss a wonderful chance to show you how stupid and easily manipulated you are.

"Don't waste your time looking for files exposing us. They don't exist." Edward suppressed the urge to clench his teeth. Envy could be lying. "I was waiting for you here so I could capture the Fullmetal pipsqueak and his brother. Then I'm to show them to reporters, proving they're here, tell the people here you came to Kelyair to sabotage the New Liore venture, and afterwards fake their escape. Bradley will then say his investigations of your life has discovered you're in league with the alchemist who wounded him in the South, and you two intend to send a small task force of mannequin soldiers to attack New Liore and sabotage the venture that way. Bradley will also offer to deploy the military to protect all the people in New Liore, and assist any businesses and employees in Kelyair who join the economic experiment in moving to New Liore, because he's personally interested in seeing pipsqueak fail at any other crimes he's attempting to commit. Since Bradley will warn the people just a small task force will be attacking, given the populace's hatred of the Fullmetal Alchemist and their desire to see him fail at anything else unscrupulous he tries, that should be enough additional incentive for almost every remaining business and worker here to move to New Liore. We'll have enough citizens and troops in New Liore we'll be able to carve our crest of blood, and we'll sic the mannequins on them." Al gasped, Edward couldn't breathe, and he started shaking violently. No. No.

Envy smiled delightedly, clearly enjoying their reactions. "All of you save the thief have such wonderful expressions on your faces. I love them!" Envy's voice was elated. "Now do you see, you idiots? By endeavoring to stop us from inscribing our crest, you enabled us to complete it much sooner! Your misguided attempt to fight for the sake of keeping people from getting hurt as opposed to battling to gorge yourself on your fellows' suffering just caused them to suffer faster! You believe in keeping anyone at all from dying, but all you did was hasten a massacre! All opposing your betters and your naïvete leads to is faster bloodshed, not salvation! Trying to change human sadism and defying the place we Homunculi have in the flow of matter can't bring about anything but quicker disaster! You can't change reality, and you can't defeat those of us who walk with the Truth! Attempting to makes you more hilarious morons than most of the rest of humanity!"

Edward took purposeful breaths and clapped his hands, and ran his left hand over his right arm, forming a blade in currents of blue. Horror was consuming him entirely at his awareness this meant there was probably no way to prevent the construction of New Liore from being completed, but he ignored it. Now that these efforts hadn't just ended in ruin but might _increase_ the Homunculi's position of advantage in orchestrating massacres at New Liore, Fort Briggs, and throughout all Amestris, it was even harder, if that was possible, for him to believe he was capable of saving anyone, or taking care of and protecting Alphonse and Winry, but he ignored that too. He might still be able to save New Liore by coming up with a way to defeat the mannequin army, and if he let his emotions and inability to believe he could achieve anything rule him they'd have much less time to do that. He pointed his blade at Envy. "Did you forget about how we tried to stop Pride? According to Greed, you're not as resourceful as him. We'll take _you_ captive, and then the crest won't be carved as soon."

Hopefully the distance between the two double doors they'd passed through meant all the walls between this room and any open space surrounding it were soundproofed, as thick as they were at the entrance, and unusually sturdy, and the spaces below the floor and above the ceiling were the same, so no one outside the chamber would know they were battling.

Envy laughed. "You maggots? Capture _me?_ I'd love to see you try!"

Then red crackled over him and up from him and his body shifted, and Ed's eyes went wide and Al gasped as the familiar figure of Winry Rockbell stood before them in her white prison clothes. Tears brimmed in her eyes and fell down her cheeks, and even though Edward knew this wasn't Winry, his stomach clenched and heaved violently at the sight of them and he struggled not to retch violently.

"And I thought you wanted me to be free and safe!" Envy cried, his voice a flawless replica of Winry's. He must not have just been shown a picture of Winry or seen her, but must have spoken to her, possibly on the phone, too. "Not a prisoner!"

Ed clenched his teeth, pushed his emotions and the visions of Winry bawling and crying in the alleyway aside as best he could, and tried to move his legs to charge Envy, but they wouldn't move. He couldn't do it. Ed _knew_ full well what happened when he let his emotions rule him; he _knew_ full well Envy wasn't Winry and Ed wasn't causing Winry to cry and wouldn't be hurting Winry if he struck the Homunculus; he _knew_ full well he'd be a liability again if he let Envy's appearance and tears and voice cripple him; he _knew_ full well how much depended on all of them battling their hardest; he _knew_ full well he had to _move_ , to strike at Envy, to battle his hardest and not let Envy's disguise and tears affect him, but this was far too much. He shook violently, but he couldn't take a single step, and his arm dropped, unable to endure pointing a sword at someone who was Winry in every single way but the most important.

 _This is insane! You've sparred with Al countless times! You can combat those you love! It wouldn't matter if he genuinely_ was _Winry!_

But Winry didn't know how to fight like Al, and Edward would never be able to assault a crying Al. Ed couldn't attack, or pull back, or assume a guard position, or jump, or do anything.

There was the sound of flesh tearing, and a large white quill impaled a light green snake that had replaced Envy's right arm and had been lunging at Edward, and Winry's form fell back with a cry of agony. Ed's stomach moved, and he was barely able to keep himself from throwing up violently.

"He's not someone you kn–" Heinkel cut himself off. "You're already aware of that! Never mind! Leave this to us!"

Heinkel sprang past Edward on all fours, his body now a lion's. Envy's left forearm grew a jagged, sharp, white protrusion of bone out of its outer side in currents of red and he swung it at Heinkel, but then Darius threw a bookshelf over his head into the Homunculus' side,he staggered to the side, his irregular body mass smashing holes into the stone floor with his feet, and Heinkel opened his throat, sending blood spraying from it.

Edward found himself doubling over and emptying his stomach onto the floor.

Jerso spewed saliva at Envy's feet, trapping them in the floor.

Edward's eyes tried to squeeze shut extremely tightly, but he forced them to stay open as best as they could while he was throwing up. He couldn't attack Envy when he was in Winry's form, but at least he wasn't going to not face the battle when he knew the truth was Envy wasn't Winry!

"Keep it up!" Darius cried. "He can't regenerate indefinitely!"

One of Envy's left fingers coursed with red and changed into a grenade and he threw it at Zampano, knowing he was in the greatest danger from enemies who could attack from long range, but Armstrong, eyes wide as Envy's right arm and throat repaired themselves in running red, struck the floor with a fist and blue crackled, a thick wall of stone rising up in front of it and shielding Zampano from the explosion. Heinkel closed his teeth around Envy's upper left arm and ripped it off, and then he flipped forwards, allowing razor sharp cards thrown by Clara to embed themselves in Envy's torso. Then a sharp protrusion of stone rose out of the floor in green – what _was_ the energy source or energy sources that powered Milosian alchemy!? – doubtlessly courtesy of Julia, and tore through Envy's midsection.

Envy turned Winry's tear-streaked face in Al's direction, and Edward strove to stop throwing up, knowing what was about to happen. " _Al!_ " he screamed a scream of abject physical and emotional anguish in Winry's voice, " _Please, protect me!_ " Edward stopped his retching and screamed, " _Stop it!_ " He knew Envy was emotionally torturing Al to get this specific response, but Ed couldn't let Envy put his younger brother through this.

Zampano gave Edward and Alphonse, who was shaking beyond extremely violently, a sympathetic look, but then he launched more quills at Envy and they shredded his right arm, that had just finished regenerating in red energies and was humanoid again. Julia, however, ran over to Al and took his right hand.

"I won't attack him again while he looks like Winry," she assured him. "I promise."

Clara sneered at Envy. "But that won't save you. I'm fond of dirty tricks myself, but even by my standards this is low. You like cheap shots, huh? Then you'll love this."

" _Please, Al!_ " Envy screamed.

Edward had to stop this. He couldn't let Al suffer when there _was_ something he might be able to do to stop it, and there _was_ a miniscule chance he could prevent Al from continuing to live this beyond nightmare. Ed knew he had no ability to do anything to even lessen his brother's agony, and his chances of reaching the Homunculus were so slim as to be virtually nonexistent, but for Alphonse's sake, Ed had to try. For Envy's sake as well; Envy was willingly orchestrating the slaughter of countless millions, but he was Edward's nephew, and that meant Ed had the responsibility to attempt to save Envy from himself. He should have tried this before the fight had broken out. Envy had almost certainly been looking down on humans for much too long for anything Edward said to change his mindset, but Ed owed it to his brother and his nephew to make the attempt.

Clara ran at Envy, knelt before the saliva around one of his feet, and the transmutation circle on her back glowed blue, sending blue currents into the saliva. The saliva altered into a hand of water that rose up and closed around Envy's head. As Edward looked on, blisters appeared on Envy's skin; the water must be acidic. As this was happening Heinkel rushed Envy from the side, and red currents crackled into the air from Envy's knees and twin curved blades arced out of them in the direction of the lion Chimera, but he snorted in derision, sidestepped them, and sent his fisted paw through Envy's side.

Envy's almost fully repaired neck changed into a giraffe's in red light and he bent his head down out of the water, and then he snap-kicked Clara with his freed leg and sent her flying to the side, but Darius slid into the space she'd occupied, grabbed the leg, and yanked it off.

"Envy!" Ed yelled. "I know you think Homunculi are superior to humans, but even if that's true, how does that make us repulsive!?"

Envy changed his remaining leg into a coiled up blue snake body in crackling red, holding him up, and then laughed. "How _doesn't_ it? We're stronger and more durable than humans, we don't get sick, and we don't age, while you humans are frail and snap easily!"

Hearing Envy responding to Edward without playing another trick, the Chimeras ceased their attacks, and Clara didn't resume it when she got to her feet. But Edward was barely aware of these things. Hearing Winry's voice, Winry's mouth, speak words like these was so incredibly horrible Edward could barely believe he wasn't having a delirious fever nightmare. He knew this was real, but for all his determination to face the truth he was barely able to believe this was genuinely happening. Additionally, Edward was aware Al must be taking this just as terribly, if not worse. Ed still hadn't learned how hopeless he was. Even if he was able to save Al from this torment, he was putting Alphonse through almost as much agony, if not as much, by trying to do so.

Envy could obviously tell how horrifically this was torturing Ed and Al, for he smirked like a predator who knew he or she had his or her prey where he or she wanted it. "We Homunculi are loyal to our father and our brethren and live in harmony," he went on, "You humans take pleasure out of seeing each other dance around howling in agony and sow chaos and misery amongst all your fellows, be they members of different nations, races, or religions or as close to you as your immediate families! We Homunculi originate from the Truth, you humans are so stupid the most obvious ploy can string you along the most self-destructive paths! You're disgustingly weak, repugnantly sadistic, and revoltingly stupid! While we're anything but! What is there about humans to like?"

"I'll grant you physically," Edward spoke back, "We're weaker than Homunculi. Furthermore, I'll grant you we do a lot of awful things and make many horrid mistakes. But we can change and stop committing many of our sins."

"This again?" Envy laughed. "Don't waste that argument on me. Do you know what caused the Ishvalan Civil War to break out?"

"A soldier on orders from the Fϋhrer shot an Ishvalan child," Ed responded, "Pretending it was an accident."

"Close," Envy spoke. "It was actually yours truly who shot the boy," Edward's eyes widened and Armstrong inhaled sharply, and then Ed glared furiously at Envy, "Disguised as a soldier who opposed the military's occupation of the Ishvalan region, so I could also get a thorn in our side court martialed and slaughter two birds with one stone.

"And what does all this prove? One bullet. _One. Single. Bullet._ Mired this nation in a bloody civil war for approximately eight years. Not just that, the ripple it caused fanned into a tidal wave of atrocities including the massacre of innumerable civilians and the genocide of most of a whole race, carried out by soldiers who believed duty, a concept that means you put your fellows first and your own desires second, compelled them to turn on their kinsfolk and required them to not place any limits on the harm they were doing the Ishvalans. Many of them even believed they weren't doing the slightest thing wrong because they were doing their 'duty.' The deaths of over a hundred thousand; tumult that terribly disrupted millions of lives in the East and elsewhere; the extermination of children, the elderly, babies, girls; thousands of moral and upstanding soldiers caking their hands with blood; experimentation on living humans and corpses, including experimentation that tested the effects of injuries and pain. All of this, resulting from a _single_ shot. We were able to successfully pull on the strings we'd wrapped around you and make you caper to our whims, too, just by firing a _single_ bullet. If one single shot can cause that large an amount of upheaval and suffering and abominations and idiocy, there's not even the faintest glimmer of hope you humans are capable of anything but being fools and causing death and despair.

"Oh, right. 'A democratic Amestris will be a more peaceful Amestris, and a more peaceful Amestris will be a more tolerant Amestris.' Don't make me laugh. Do you know how many peaceful countries have legally endorsed racial and ethnic discrimination?" All the blood drained from Ed's face, and hearing those words from Winry's mouth in Winry's voice caused them to appear undeniable. Edward staggered back as though he'd been struck, and reality reeled and tilted and spun and tumbled end over end violently. "Do you know how many democracies in this world who purport to believe in peace have waged war 'to bring peace' by ending conflicts that are currently in progress through engaging in bloodshed themselves, and have thus made the battling worse? Or what about the revolutionaries who hate oppression and intolerance, overthrow oppressive ethnic majorities, then slaughter those ethnic majorities to avenge their former torment? It doesn't matter whether the government is military or democratic, or the nation is belligerent or pacifistic. Humans aren't _capable_ of living in peace and tolerance. All you're capable of is running in circles like mindless ants and feasting upon each other for your own amusement."

Al. He had to look after Al. This wasn't Winry. Envy's words weren't irrefutable. Edward desperately searched for a counterargument that was better than the ones he'd used to argue with Envy's sister. He believed in Teacher, but he _had_ read about situations like the ones Envy was talking about in books and newspapers, and so he knew he hadn't thought of them when he'd believed Teacher's points a democratic Amestris would be peaceful and tolerant, and Envy was asking valid questions.

But that still didn't make the Homunculi correct. Humanity wasn't as depraved as they believed it to be! If it was, life would be hopeless!

"So you're saying there's no meaning to our lives?" Al asked, voice incredibly agonized and almost fully unaware of reality. "That we have no hope? That no matter how hard we try, we'll never be able to escape the shackles that keep us devouring each other?"

Envy grinned. "You hit the nail on the head. You humans are powerless to do anything but writhe in the mud. No matter how hard you strive, someone will inevitably bring everything you've worked for collapsing into the filth you wretches are buried in.

"In addition, yes, I'm saying you have no hope. Do you know why? It's _because_ you hope! It's _because_ you dream of a better tomorrow! The wishes and dreams that are so important to you are what keep you helpless to escape your suffering and create that better world! You all have your own individual dreams for the future, and they conflict with one another, so you have to step all over your fellows to realize your dreams on top of their prostrate bodies. Your existence is by its very nature a self-destructive paradox. You want a happier future where you yourselves and the people around you are no longer caked in muck, so you work hard to rise from the swamp and grasp hold of it, but in order to do so you have to grind the dreams of the people around you into the dirt, because they're a threat to the future you want.

"Someone wants to build a sculpture in a square, another wants to build a fountain, and there isn't room for both. In order for one of the people to construct what he or she wants, the other person's dream has to be ruined. One person wants to be a carpenter, but so do many other people in the town. Yet an employer doesn't need more than one carpenter, so in order to get a job as a carpenter you have to convince the employer you're a better choice than the others, and prevent them from achieving their dreams. One government wants rich farmland to improve his or her people's prosperity, but so does another government, so they wage war over it and uncountable people lose their lives and the ability to dream at all, then one country wins the war and its people become happier while the other is left worse off because its resources have now been depleted by war. One leader believes in a glowing future for his or her country consisting of a benevolent authoritarian government that gives its people secure lives, another leader believes in a glowing future where a benevolent republican government reigns and gives its people free lives, but the two ideals are opposed to each other so just one leader can realize his or her dream for his or her nation, the two leaders war with each other over their ideals, and when the dust settles the nation is left in impoverishment, no one's dream is fulfilled, and the country has been left in shadow, not Sunlight. A mother wants her daughter to be a writer, her daughter wants to be an artist. If the daughter becomes a writer her mother's dreams will be realized, but she'll live out the rest of her life with her dreams unfulfilled. If the daughter becomes a writer her dreams will be fulfilled, but her mother's dreams will be shattered. A friend dreams to give up his or her potential happiness as a musician so his or her friend can become a musician, that friend dreams to give up his or her potential happiness as a musician so _his_ or _her_ friend can achieve _his_ or _her_ desire of being a musician, so both sacrifice their desires and a third person becomes the musician.

"Then those who didn't accomplish their dreams deplore or hate those who succeeded, inciting them to undo the efforts of those who were successful, and even the successful person or people's dreams are ruined. You trample others' dreams into rubble, and those others trample yours into rubble, and you all fall back into the muck. It's _because_ you dream of a bright future you rip down one another's progress. That's one of the reasons Homunculi don't have dreams, and devote ourselves to Father. You know very well what I'm talking about, don't you? From what happened to Hawkeye and Mustang?"

Hearing those words from Winry's mouth, sounding like Winry, Edward recoiled violently as though he'd been physically struck and barely kept his feet, and Al staggered backward so unsteadily he probably would have fallen if Julia hadn't put one hand on his back to help him steady himself.

Envy grinned elatedly and like a predator who had cornered his or her prey and was about to pounce. "Yes, that's it! Understand how sick you are! Know how worthless it is to be alive! Writhe in your powerlessness and scream in your despair! Accept your existences have never amounted to anything, and never can! You've been in search of the Philosopher's Stone all these years because you want to regain the bodies you lost when you tried human transmutation," Zampano and Jerso gasped and spun to look at Ed and Al, "Haven't you!? Mustang and Hawkeye had dreams, you two had dreams, and look what happened! Your pursuit of your dreams ended Hawkeye's ability to even have dreams, and obliterated Mustang's! _That_ is what comes of wishing for a better tomorrow! _That_ is what comes of attempting to create a future! _That_ is all human effort amounts to! _That_ is all you humans are!"

Al needed Ed, but even if Envy hadn't been speaking in Winry's voice out of Winry's mouth Ed would have known it was impossible to refute those points. Hawkeye's blackened, charred corpse strewn over the staircase showed before him as vividly as if he was kneeling in Table City before it again, as did the look on Mustang's face when he'd no longer been human. Every single word Envy had spoken had been correct. Dreams _didn't_ bring about anything but further suffering. All of Ed's uncertainty he should give up on giving Al back his body and getting his own body back vanished. Al didn't want his body back any more, and by thinking it might still be okay to dream of giving Al something Al didn't want, Edward was running down a road that might leave Alphonse so badly damaged there'd be almost nothing left of him.

This was getting nowhere. Edward tried a different approach, attempting to understand why Envy enjoyed human suffering so much and wanted them to be in anguish, but before he could discover a possible reason, Julia, standing beside Al, interjected.

"Stop running your mouth off as if you have all the answers," she spoke, and Envy turned an angry glare on her. "I'm Milosian. Do you know how Amestris treats Milos?"

Envy grinned happily, closing his eyes. "Yup. They have a grand time scaring you into flailing around in a panic. It's so amusing to hear about."

"Then you should know," she said, "When Milos _does_ realize its dream of taking back our holy hill from Amestris, we're not going to kill anyone there who doesn't combat us. We're going to escort them to the border and allow them to keep as much of their money as we can without making it that much harder for us to establish better lives, so they can start their own lives over within Amestris with as little difficulty as possible. We're not going to accomplish our dream over their corpses, or avenge ourselves on them. We want to coexist with Creta and Amestris, not take from them as they've taken from us. Your belief all humans can do is devour each other and build futures over the bodies of others is ignorant."

Envy snarled. "Don't look down on me, human. Sure my belief is. I'll believe _you're_ not the ignorant one if you Milosians actually _are_ tolerant of the Amestrians and Cretans if you attain independence."

"Any Milosian discovered to have hurt or killed a Cretan or Amestrian civilian is thrown in prison," Julia said back, and Envy's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. "Additionally, I'm not treating Ed and Al as filth who deserve to suffer because of how Amestris has oppressed us. Ed and Al are my friends. Further, Al saved my life once when he thought I was an illegal immigrant from Creta, and Ed saved me from being taken captive later on that day when he knew I was a Milosian. Then the Elric brothers drastically damaged our chance at fulfilling our dreams of gaining independence from Creta and Amestris, and we didn't shoot them. All that happened was I blackmailed them into letting me travel with them so I could have a better chance at obtaining a Crimson Star, what you call the Philosopher's Stone. I haven't tried to kill them, nor do I have the slightest desire to. On the contrary, I'd shield Al or Ed with my body if that's what I need to do to protect them." A look of utter hatred appeared on Envy's face and then vanished, but at the sight of it Ed _knew_ , and he was once more aware how exhausted transcending description he was. The Dwarf in the Flask had made the right choice taking Hohenheim's form. He was as horrible a father as Hohenheim was.

And Granny hadn't seen more than the surface of how stupid Ed had been not to rely on the people who wanted to support him.

"I'd die for them if I had to if I didn't need to live to return to Milos with a Crimson Star to protect my people," Julia spoke.

Envy's mouth moved silently for a few seconds, and then he said, "I can't wait to see how long it takes for the rest of the world to consume your 'nation' and spew it out as tatters. Go up against reality, and reality will flatten you. Humans can't crawl out of the mud. You might as well writhe. If you don't, it won't do you the tiniest smidgen of good."

"That's enough, Envy," Edward said. "There's no reason for you to be jealous of humans," Envy spun to look at him, eyes wide at Ed's accusation, "Even though you were born from that sin. It's true. Support from the people who care about us sustains us, so by leaning on each other we gain the strength to carry on, but that doesn't make us better than Homunculi. I know from personal experience humans are just as flawed as you Homunculi are. There's nothing we humans are capable of Homunculi aren't for you to be jealous of, as you have been almost your whole life." Envy's eyes went wider, and a look of disbelief and faint horror appeared on his face. "You don't need to beat us down to feel you're better than we are."

Envy stood silently, and Edward hoped, against all odds, he'd gotten through to the Homunculus almost as much because Envy needed to be saved as because Al needed to be saved. Envy had been suffering as badly as the most afflicted humans did since he'd been old enough to know how humans lived, whether that had been shortly after his birth or years later, and the Dwarf in the Flask had turned a blind eye to his son's torture all those decades, if not centuries. Envy needed true familial love desperately.

After numerous seconds had passed Envy spoke, "Humans… Humans…?"

Then he ground his teeth together so hard they looked as though they would chip, unrestricted hatred appeared in his eyes, red coursed up from him, and he started to enlarge. Edward became aware what was happening and his knees nearly gave out even as dismay consumed him and he found himself able to fully move again. Disbelief surpassing the word consumed him that, with Julia's help, he'd saved Alphonse from what Envy had been forcing Al to experience, but this wasn't the time to think about that.

"Envy, wait!" Ed shouted.

Envy didn't stop altering. His lower snake portion split into six clawed legs and turned dark green, and his left pupil and iris was now glowing red and his face was now something inhuman. "You inconsequential, hallucinating, decrepit, _germ!_ " he snarled, his voice growing more monstrous, and his torso bent forwards. He ran to his right to give himself room to change into his outer true form. "How _dare_ you!" His head was now partially akin to a dog's, with a left eye with a white vitreous membrae and seven light purple irises with slitted pupils, a right eye with a black vitreous membrae and a single purple iris with a slitted pupil, and a triangle of red lines on his forehead with double red circles, one enclosing the other, at the three points. As Envy enlarged, he knocked over the bookshelves to his side and the rows behind them. "How _dare_ you have the nerve to inflict the ultimate humiliation upon me!" A thick tail emerged to extend outward from Envy's posterior and two rows of spines rose up to the sides of the center of his back, running down it, and long black hair now extended from his head a distance down his back and fell down his sides, to the side of his head, and in front of his face. "How _dare_ you understand me!" Edward struggled to breathe. _Had_ he reached his nephew? Then countless moving dark green faces, and torsos with one or both arms and heads or legs that were merged together, of varying shapes and sizes burst out of the skin of Envy's underside and sides, many of them with heads and single-armed or legged or double-armed torsos with heads inside their mouths or emerging from their mouths, and Ed cringed. Envy's outer true form itself was proof alchemy could bring about horrific nightmares. "You, a midget of a pipsqueak, among the most laughable of all your repugnant species!" Envy's voice was a roar as numerous sections of his body on his sides and what Edward could see of Envy's back and the portion of his tail closer to his body rose out and up and his body finished enlarging, and now a huge composite eight-legged dark green monster with a tail stood before them. "Homunculi are life forms beyond your ability to comprehend! _How dare you slithering worm presume to do so, and reach up high above your station and drag me down to a level equal to all of you! How dare you demean me this greatly! I can't kill you, but I'll snap every bone in your body I can without it resulting in death like the twigs they are, crush all the muscles I can, and mutilate that tissue paper skin to show you how frail you are compared to me!_ "

He opened his mouth, and his tongue, made up of moving faces, with toothless mouths and empty sockets, and torsos and arms, grew and lashed out at Edward, but he'd remembered Greed's information about it and flipped to the side. The tongue curved in his direction and swung at him, but Edward rolled under it and it smashed through multiple bookshelves in the nearest standing row.

"There's nothing to feel humiliated about!" Ed shouted. Envy had become aware Edward understood him. Maybe Ed had a real chance at reaching the Homunculus. "We're _not_ better than you!"

Envy roared in unfettered anger and charged at him, but cylindrical constructs of rock with sharp-pointed octagons at the front, crackling with blue and launched by Major Armstrong with the force of cannon rounds or tank shells, sailed through the air and struck him in the head, tearing into it and sending the Homunculus staggering backwards and roaring in agony. Edward ran to the side to circle Envy and reach a safer position, keeping track of the battle as he did.

Envy swung his tail at Armstrong, but the Strong Arm Alchemist jumped over it and Jerso, who had spewed two globs of saliva at his own feet and stuck them to the floor, spewed a stream of saliva at the tip of the tail and then pulled back, attempting to keep it in place. Envy wrenched his tail free and swung Jerso through a number of bookshelf rows to send him crashing into the far side wall of the chamber, however.

"Jerso!" Darius cried.

Armstrong punched the floor with one cestused fist, and blue crackled over it, a growing copse of spikes rising out of it in the direction of Envy's legs, but Envy leapt to the side of it, knocking over more bookshelves. Darius ran forward, seized Envy's extended tongue, and pulled, trying to rip it from his mouth, but Envy wrapped the tongue around him and threw him into the wall near the entrance with debilitating force.

"We're as you talked about!" Edward shouted, still keeping track of the fight. Zampano launched quills at Envy's left eye and Clara threw cards at his right, but Envy swung his tail around and blocked them. Then more projectiles launched from rocks Armstrong had transmuted into the air, currents of blue running over them, ripped through the tail, severing a segment of it and smaller pieces from it, and the projectiles behind them struck Envy in his head, regenerating in coursing red. Envy clenched his teeth against the pain this time. "We wage wars at the drop of a hat and do stupid things for no good reason! We do stupid things even _when_ we know better! I knew better than to not accept any of the Truth after what my human transmutation resulted in and I _still_ didn't accept the Truth! And because I was an idiot when I _knew better, I murdered a little girl!_ So how in the universe can you be jealous of us!?" Envy rushed Clara and Zampano, who was now firing quills after quills into the wounds on the Homunculus' healing head, as the separated large part and small pieces of his tail disintegrated, and then Heinkel sprang onto his back and closed his teeth around one of Envy's spines. Envy swung what remained of his tail over his back and struck Heinkel, throwing him off and through more rows of bookshelves, where he hit the floor hard enough to leave cracks and didn't move.

Then more cannon-force or tank-shell-force stone constructs perforated his head. Envy roared and swung his tongue at the Strong Arm Alchemist, but he punched the floor and a swarm of strong arm-force spikes emerged from it to slice through the tongue and separate it into two parts. The severed portions of Envy's tail were now gone and it regrew, but then a large hand of water closed over the growing flesh and it sizzled, the regeneration slowing down.

"Stop letting your emotions blind you!" Edward yelled. "There's no reason for you to be jealous of us! All you're doing is putting yourself through unnecessary pain!"

Envy rushed Zampano, who was still firing quills into the injuries in Envy's head, but green coursed over the floor beneath him and it rose into a low ramp. Envy skidded to a halt, but he wasn't able to slow down in time to keep from passing over the now-crouching Zampano. Zampano fired more quills into Envy's regenerating tail, further slowing its regrowth.

"You wouldn't be in this pain if you stopped letting your emotions rule you!" Envy, who had been swinging his tail at Clara, stopped moving it, and Edward experienced extremely cautious hope. "You know how to see without emotions affecting your perception, or you wouldn't be so good at exploiting ours, so see without your own emotions affecting it! Your reasons for being jealous of us are groundless! You don't need to suffer the way you have been for decades or centuries! If you look at us from a rational standpoint, uninfluenced by your emotions, your torment would end! Don't you want to be free of it!?"

Envy didn't move, and Edward held his breath. No one else attacked him, save Zampano and Clara, who maintained the quill storm and acid water hand to keep his red-covered tail regenerating more slowly. Armstrong struck the floor repeatedly, causing stone walls to rise up in blue currents he could transmute into projectiles, but he didn't fire them.

Then Envy responded, sounding furious he was showing his weaknesses to a human but as if he saw no point in not showing them now. "I can never be free of it that way. I could never form the same bonds with my fellow Homunculi you humans form with each other. I could never gain the strength you forge with your connections, or experience the warmth that comes from receiving the unconditional love of a relative. My brethren and I, save for Pride, care for each other, but our duty to Father comes first, as it must. You humans will always possess the things I can never have. The sole way I'll be free of my torture is when every last human in Amestris has been stricken from his or her lofty perch and is lying in the dirt."

A torso with a head and two arms grew out of one of the open mouths, reaching out its hands imploringly, and Edward almost recoiled violently. "Your strength… Your life…"

One of the heads without a torso shouted, "Give it to me!"

"It's so cold!" a torso with one arm cried, wrapping its arm around itself.

"Scream with us!" a torso with one arm and merged together legs shouted, and then laughed in euphoria.

"Die together with us!" a large face with another face inside it cried.

Edward clenched his teeth, insides twisting violently. He didn't know whether the souls that obviously animated these partial bodies were expressing their own thoughts, mindless or aware, or whether they were expressing Envy's, but in countless ways this was the sickest thing he'd encountered since he'd plunged into the river that was Amestris' survival. How could _any_ alchemist, Homunculus or human, transmute something like this and then abandon him or her?

"It doesn't have to be that way!" Al shouted, horrified. "I love you, and I'm your uncle! Leave your father behind and come with us! We'd be glad to get to know you, and we'd do our best to ensure you didn't feel as if you were lacking things others had! We'll welcome your siblings with open arms too, so we can help them and you won't have to be without them! We'll find a way to sate Gluttony's hunger, and make work endurable for Sloth, and if the Dwarf in the Flask has given birth to a Wrath, we'll help him discover a means of not being angry all the time!"

"Father has given birth to Wrath," Envy spoke back, "But I was right about you being a naïve fool. Father gave birth to me. I owe him everything. I can't in good conscience turn my back on the father I love." Edward's insides twisted violently. So the Dwarf in the Flask had brought up his children to be as much pawns in his efforts as humans were. Like father – if Hohenheim or the Dwarf in the Flask could be thought of as having 'brought up' their children in any sense – like son. "I'm not even sure I should care for my siblings. Many times I think I should be like Pride, who doesn't care for any of his siblings but Wrath, and puts his responsibility to obey Father above everything. But whether I should care for my siblings or not, I must obey my father. That's what natural decency dictates."

"Natural decency dictates you shouldn't try to think for yourself?" Ed questioned.

Envy laughed. "Now what species is talking as though it has all the answers? I don't need to think for myself. We Homunculi weren't born from luck. We were created with a place and a purpose, while you humans grope blindly through the darkness in search of both. We've known where we belong and how we should live since our birth."

"Are you sure of that?" Edward asked. "The way you 'know' how to live has caused you pain for much of your life. Do you honestly believe you ought to suffer that way?"

A new kind of fury entered Envy's voice. "I don't want to hear any more of this, you disgusting bastard! Stop attempting to convince me to abandon my father! I crave what you humans have, but I'd take the concept of jealousy to new levels if I acted on that craving and betrayed the father I should be nothing but grateful towards for giving me life! Additionally, you have no concept of how much meaning having been born with a purpose gives our lives! I'd do worse than live as my sin if I discarded the purpose I shouldn't be anything but thankful for having! Now be good little humans and _writhe!_ "

Envy's tail was whole again, and he swung it around to slam it down where Julia was standing, but Al grabbed her and threw them to the side. Armstrong struck one of the numerous walls before him with a cestused fist, sending blue through it and launching projectiles at Envy's head, then struck another and launched them at Envy's head, then a third, firing cylindrical structures with sharp-pointed hexagons for fronts. Zampano added to the storm of firepower by resuming firing quills into Envy's head injuries. Envy brought his tail around to shield himself, and the Strong Arm Alchemist broke a fourth wall into cylindrical constructs with pointed octagons as their fronts and fired them at the tail with force befitting his title, but when it fell in pieces and the rear constructs rocketed into Envy's head the Homunculus' tongue, now fully healed too, shot through the space it had occupied at Armstrong, catching him off guard.

Clara had apparently anticipated that, though, and was in position for a geyser of water to blast out of her pitcher. It was thin, but it rose with enough force to push the tongue over Armstrong. Then Zampano launched more quills and shredded the tongue apart.

"You should be thankful for a lifetime of unfulfilled desires!?" Ed queried.

Envy snarled and batted one of the fallen bookshelves through the air at Edward, and Ed clenched his teeth and clapped his hands, slapping them to the floor and transmuting a wall of stone up in front of him in coursing blue light. The bookshelf struck it and slid harmlessly to the floor.

Edward ran to the side of it to see Armstrong fire more constructs at Envy's head. Envy leapt into the air in the direction of Armstrong, his walls, and Zampano, but Armstrong launched one final wall into the underside of the Homunculus' head in blue light and then rolled backwards into the midst of three walls Julia, Al at her side, had transmuted up with three transmutation circles drawn with chalk. The growing portion of Envy's tail that had once been a stump came around to sweep through them, but then Jerso was somersaulting through the air to the side of the tail and spewing a stream of saliva at it, pulling the tail to the floor with his weight. The remaining part of Envy's tongue attached to his body grew and the hands of one of the human figures at its front, teeth now in its mouth, grabbed Jerso, and the tongue swung the frog Chimera up headfirst into the ceiling, the stream of saliva separating, and he went limp. Edward lost the ability to breathe, but Jerso was still breathing. He was alive. Then Armstrong fired another wall into Envy's head.

"You should be thankful for a lifetime of pain, of having no hope!?" Edward cried.

"That's getting old!" Envy commented, addressing Major Armstrong and ignoring Ed, and swiped one leg at the remaining two walls and another at Zampano, who was still launching quills into his head wounds, but the State Alchemist punched the floor and a large group of tank shell-force or cannon-force spikes rose out of the floor in a wave below that leg and Envy's other seven legs, and Envy was too close to dodge them this time. They impaled all eight legs and trapped Envy in place. While Major Armstrong was occupied doing this, Envy's tail swiped at him, but Clara was in position again and transmuted another, much thicker, geyser in running blue, and it shot up with enough force to push the tail up over the State Alchemist.

"I'm out of water!" Clara called to Edward as the Strong Arm Alchemist launched the second wall, shortening Envy's tail by another segment. "You're not going to be able to reason with him!" Envy's still intact tongue portion had extended again and lunged at Zampano, forcing him to cease firing quills into the Homunculus' head wounds to assault it another time.

But this had been another trick. Envy closed his teeth on his tongue, severing it while Zampano was firing, and then opened his mouth and his tongue launched out anew, wrapping around Zampano as he twisted to shoot quills at it and swinging Zampano into the nearest wall hard. Zampano stopped moving. "We need your help!"

As Envy's legs moved back together, breaking the floor structures as the Strong Arm Alchemist struck Julia's third wall and currents of blue fired new stone constructs with heavy cannon momentum, Edward clenched his hands into fists so hard the nails of his left hand drew blood. He could assault Joshua, Patricia, and the Dwarf in the Flask, but not his nephews and niece. They were victims too. Ed couldn't hurt them.

But there wasn't any further choice in this than there had been in much else Edward had chosen since the night the Freezer had warped their lives. If he didn't help his companions, their chances of capturing Envy would be even smaller than they'd already become. Edward ran forwards.

Envy lunged down with his head to close his teeth around Armstrong, but the Strong Arm Alchemist fell back to a fourth wall that had recently risen out of the floor in green currents and struck it with a fist, and it broke into cylindrical stone projectiles with hexagonal points at the end, and they flew into Envy's red-lit head.

And Envy's body ceased all motion, part of one of the spines on his back turning gray, rising into the air in small pieces, and disintegrating.

Edward halted, his knees almost giving out, and sighed heavily in relief. It was over. As unusually big as Envy's Philosopher's Stone was, it hadn't been able to last any longer than this repairing the large amount of head wounds Armstrong and Zampano had given Envy's outer true form. It had been close, but they'd defeated Envy. They'd prevented Envy from speeding up the massacre of New Liore. In addition, Envy couldn't fight back effectively as an embryo, so Ed wouldn't need to participate in the battle.

It appeared completely unbelievable, but for the first time in months, something had worked out.

Multiple somethings. At long last, he'd done it. He'd been able to spare his brother torture. It didn't make Edward any further worthy of calling himself Al's brother, or living or dying, or Alphonse any less an only child, for it had taken him months to be able to do this and he'd had no way of saving Alphonse by putting him through different suffering, but he'd rescued Al from torment. That was the most important thing.

Maybe Ed wasn't fully worthless.

Something was bothering him, but Edward knew it was almost certainly one of the things agonizing him due to what Envy's outer true form had been capable of or what he'd learned about his older brother's relationship with his children, so Ed didn't turn his mind's eye toward it any more than it was already seeing in its direction.

The gray was appearing all over Envy's body, spreading, and rising up into the air, and Armstrong sighed in relief and addressed Edward and Alphonse. "Did I finish it? Have I given this 'Homunculus' permanent injuries or killed it?"

"You've killed Envy's outer body." A small, dark green embryonic form with two large eyes on the sides of its head encircling comparatively smaller purple irises, two rows of short dark green spines running along its back, a long sharp-toothed mouth extending up the front of its head, and a short tail, crawled on eight clawed legs out from around the middle of the red triangle on his forehead that was coming apart. "But his core body is no danger to us. It has a Philosopher's Stone for a core," Armstrong's eyes went wide, "But the Stone just consists of one soul; Envy's. The core body can't repair injuries any better than natural-born humans can, and can't survive fatal wounds. Could you please not kill Envy, though?"

"Don't worry," Armstrong assured him. "I won't."

"You still have to catch me!" Envy cried furiously from his embryo body, his small voice sounding almost humorous. But there was nothing humorous in the tiniest amount about this situation.

Envy leapt to the floor and turned to crawl away from Al, Armstrong, Clara, and Julia, but his movements were slow and, while Envy's outer true form finished turning gray and disintegrating, Armstrong strode up to him and gently picked him up by the head.

It was then Ed became aware what was bothering him. " _Don't!_ " he yelled.

But it was too late. Envy bit down on one of Major Armstrong's fingers, Armstrong went stiff, and Envy's legs sank into his skin, spreading out like veins. Then Envy, his teeth and legs embedded in the large State Alchemist's skin the whole time, shifted up Armstrong's arm and onto the back of his neck.

The State Alchemist must have attempted to move and failed, for he cried, "What is this!? My body won't respond!"

Edward clenched his hands so tightly he drew blood from his left palm again. How could he have forgotten!? He wasn't fully worthless? What a joke?

"Your body is now under my control," Envy told Armstrong. "I can't use you as a hostage and threaten to stop your heart if the pipsqueak and his companions don't comply with my orders, because you're a potential sacrifice, but I can still make use of you." Armstrong's hands moved, taking off his cestuses and dropping them on the floor. "Let's take a trip to the phone in this vault."

Edward's heart stopped. He knew what that meant.

This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have ruined everything _again_ because of his stupidity. How could he keep making mistakes like this!?

 _Because you're out of your league fighting for a whole nation. Because you care about the enemy. Because you're an infant. Because dreams give birth to nothing but devastation and fade into the light of day._ Now _do you still believe you should be fighting for Amestris?_

For the first time, Ed didn't know the answer to that question.

But that didn't mean he could do nothing.

Edward ground his teeth at the knowledge he'd have to fight Envy after all and charged Armstrong.

He knew how agile the Strong Arm Alchemist was despite his size and feinted high with his automail blade in a slice, and when Envy stepped back from it Edward moved forward into a kick at Armstrong's stomach with his automail blade. But Envy moved Armstrong's arms and they caught Edward's kick, then lifted him up and threw him violently at the wall behind the larger alchemist. Ed flipped so his feet were facing the wall and twisted, springing off it to the floor, but then Armstrong was in front of him and driving his fist into Edward's stomach with incredible strength. All the air left Ed and he doubled over, falling to his knees. He began to push himself up, but agony seared through him from his stomach, sending him back to his knees.

"Envy," he gasped, "You don't want to do this."

"I told you," Envy laughed. "This is the only way I'll be satisfied. I want to do this more than _anything!_ "

"How can you believe that?" Ed asked. Envy ignored him, turned Major Armstrong, and the State Alchemist ran in the direction of the bookshelves. "H–" But raising his voice sent more pain searing through Edward, and he doubled over.

No. Please. Not again. _This couldn't be happening again!_

Al carefully picked up his older brother in his arms and ran after Envy and Armstrong, Clara behind him, then cried, "How can you believe you want to obey a father who hasn't done anything to soothe your suffering almost all of your life!? I'm not in a position to know whether the Dwarf in the Flask loves you or not, but how can you believe your duty is to do what someone who doesn't give you the love you should have been given!? Your purpose isn't to wag your tail for someone who won't care for you!"

Envy ignored him, and Armstrong reached a phone on a table, turned on another lamp on a small round shelf attached to the wall near it then picked the phone up, and dialed a number. Envy forced Armstrong to hold it to his ear with one hand, and assumed a guard position with his legs and the other.

"Your father gave you life," Al cried, "But that doesn't give him the justification to run your life, or require you to let him do so! Yes, you're alive because of him! Yes, you _should_ be grateful for that! But nothing anyone gives you is so valuable morality causes you to be beholden to enslave yourselves to that person! Living for someone else is a choice no one has the justification to force you to make! It should only be made freely! Anyone who thinks otherwise is oppressing you as badly as Amestris oppressed Ishval, and you don't owe that person a thing!"

But Alphonse's voice grew increasingly desperate as he tried to get through to Envy, for Envy wasn't paying any attention to him. Rather, he was making Armstrong talk into the phone.

"This is Alex Louis Armstrong," Armstrong had 'identified' himself. "I'm calling at the request of Mayor Nevo, who came upon the Fullmetal Alchemist in his office searching his drawers for contracts he might have made with the businesses here supporting their efforts to relocate to New Liore. He found none, but from his words before he fatally wounded the Mayor it's obvious he wants to see as many of the businesses here fail in the New Liore venture as possible. In accordance with his dying wish, I'm alerting you so you can relay my warning to the public sector businesses he watched over.

"I'm alerting you specifically because Mayor Nevo also wants me to confess I allowed the Fullmetal Alchemist into his office, and he considers me guilty enough of treason he wants me to order you to have his youngest sister, Catherine, shot," reality vanished and Al, done talking and thinking of something else to say, began shaking violently, "and his other younger sister, older sister, and parents kept alive so we can continue to ensure his loyalty. But he wants them moved n–"

Then Julia, who had climbed atop one of the bookshelves behind and to Envy's and Armstrong's sides and drawn a transmutation circle there, touched it with her palms, and green light shone. A construct of metal with a fist at the end shot forward from behind the top rim of the bookshelf and curved down in front of the large State Alchemist and at the phone cord. Envy had seen Julia on the shelf and brought Armstrong's free hand over to catch it, but as soon as Armstrong touched it, the surface of the fist facing Armstrong above the fingers moved to the side, revealing one of Armstrong's transmutation circles drawn behind it.

The second Armstrong saw the circle, blue coursed over the construct and a portion of the construct in front of the State Alchemist was transmuted into a metal spike that curved around the Strong Arm Alchemist's body. Envy was caught off guard when the transmutation circle was uncovered and didn't remove Armstrong's hand from the structure, and screamed as the spike tore through one of Envy's sides and out the other in sprays of blood.

Reality partially returned to Edward as if a runaway freight train had crashed into him, and Al gasped and fell to his knees. Julia's eyes widened in unfathomable horror and she jumped down from the shelf and sprinted to Alphonse's side, standing in front of him at a place he could see what she was doing without being unable to see Envy and gripping his hands tightly, but Edward was just peripherally aware of this. All he truly knew was he had somehow regained the ability to move, jumped out of Al's hands, now shaking more violently, and was running across the floor, his vision clouding, and stretching out his hands to catch Envy as his ruined, blood-covered body fell spinning and tumbling through the air, already turning into gray pieces that were flying up into the air and disintegrating.

"We're here," Edward told him, "Nephew. You have Al's love and my love. You're not dying alone. There's nothing you can do for your father now. Please, accept what you've craved before it's too late."

Tears brimmed in his left eye, the one looking up at Edward, and fell down the side of Envy's head, but he said, "I can't… If I even pursue what I want in my mind, I'd be a treacherous son… And I can't stab Father in the back…"

Then the disintegration took apart his mouth and the part of his head his eyes were in, and then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but blood and wetness on the palm of Edward's left glove.

Blackness rising up about him, Edward could do nothing but sprint over to Al on a leg that didn't exist, that had never existed, his eyes wide in indefinably horrified incomprehension as he gazed down at the blood and wetness on his glove through eyes that could barely see through his tears, in the sense Ed could see anything. But if Ed hadn't known Al needed him, he extremely highly doubted he'd have been able to remain conscious even though he'd gone through this pain recently when he'd thought Alphonse was dead. Not when it was another member of Edward's family who had been murdered.

Even though, even if he did faint, he would never be able to remain unconscious long enough for this. Even if he went catatonic, he would never be able to remain in a coma long enough for this and no matter how greatly his mind shattered, it wouldn't be able to break enough for this.

His nephew was dead.

Ed reached Al and stood at the side of Julia, whose own eyes were filled with tears, identical to the ones on her cheeks, so Alphonse could see what he was doing too, and reached out his flesh hand and rubbed the top of Al's head. Al removed a hand from one of Julia's hands and put it around Edward's back.

"I'm so sorry," a voice cried, and Edward had no idea whose it was. But it went on, and after several seconds Edward became aware it was Julia's. "As well, I doubt it's any comfort, but you should know. I believed he wouldn't kill Envy, because he said he wouldn't. I didn't intentionally murder him. I'd never do that to you, or any of your family."

Alphonse squeezed her hand tightly and then held it tightly, even now wanting to comfort _her_ , and Julia's eyes flew wide. "It's not your fault. Further, I know."

Julia spoke nothing more, and continued to cry.

Edward had no idea how much time had passed with him standing there, rubbing Al's head with Alphonse's arm around his back, when a broken voice questioned, "Why…?"

After a few seconds Ed became aware it had been Al's.

Edward turned eyes that weren't genuinely seeing up at Armstrong's face, just barely registering tears were falling down Major Armstrong's visage. "Were you avenging Catherine?" Alphonse asked.

Edward knew he should be feeling more than he was at the knowledge he'd let another person in addition to his nephew be murdered, especially since it was his fault Catherine had been imprisoned in the first place, but at present he could barely care.

"Of course not!" Armstrong responded, but his voice held no real anger. "I didn't know how much force I needed to strike Envy with to dislodge him from my neck, or if I could, so I had no choice. I'm very sorry, boys, but if I have no other option, I kill. That's what a soldier does."

"The Chimeras used to be soldiers," Al spoke, "And they were willing not to kill as long as they accompanied us."

Armstrong's face, already unspeakably anguished for countless reasons, twisted in new fathomless agony. "I wish I could be like them. You don't know how much I wish I could. I loathe unnecessary killing. But I couldn't hold back this time. I defied an order in Ishval to be removed from the battlefield, as opposed to staying there and fighting to end the atrocities being carried out. I couldn't betray my values this time. I had to give my all. I won't ask you to forgive me. I won't ask you to understand. But this was the only path I could choose to take."

"I understand," Alphonse said, and Julia's eyes widened.

Ed nodded to show he did, too. He wasn't going to think about whether or not he forgave Armstrong, though.

Because that shouldn't be an issue at all. It was Edward's stupidity that had caused this to end in Envy's death. When it came to forgiveness, all Ed should think was how he would never be able to forgive himself for this.

For murdering Envy. For inexpressibly horrifically wounding the person he was supposed to be the brother of again. For failing to save Envy, from himself and from Armstrong. For being so unforgivably worthless he _had_ murdered a member of his family this time. A sadistic mass murderer who he'd known for less than a day and who he hadn't been aware was his nephew until less than a week ago, but a member of his family nonetheless, and therefore someone Ed should have cherished to the best of his ability.

And as much a victim of the apathy of reality and the people who lived in it as any natural-born human. Envy had been no different than Nina.

And just like Nina, he'd failed her and murdered her. It _had_ happened again. He couldn't save anyone in torment. Not Al, not Nina, not Winry, not Envy. All he could do was destroy them. He was a person, and he was an alchemist, so it was his responsibility to bear other people's pain so they didn't have to bear it, but he did nothing but make it worse.

Further, that wasn't the only thing that had happened again. All his efforts save delaying the carving of the Liore crest had met with resounding failure since he'd begun fighting for Amestris. Scar and Marcoh had been dead ends, meeting Marcoh had gotten Winry and Granny taken hostage, infiltrating the Homunculi's base hadn't given them the means of executing a deathless revolution and had made achieving any other revolution harder because the people of Amestris now hated him and would distrust anyone associated with him, and now trying to stop the New Liore crest from being inscribed had gotten Envy and Armstrong's sister killed and very possibly gotten the crest inscribed quicker.

Even before he'd started fighting for Amestris, he and Alphonse had never gotten anywhere in their search to regain their bodies, and their most recent attempt had killed Hawkeye and crushed Mustang.

Ed was one of the last people in life who gave up on accomplishing a goal no matter how hard reaching it became or how many times he failed, and, even though he'd needed Al's encouragement to keep him going multiple times, he hadn't lost hope he'd give Al his body back after years of dead ends. But for the first time, after what he'd done to Nina and Winry and Granny and Hawkeye and Mustang and Envy and Catherine and with his inability to take care of Al, he couldn't stop himself from wondering…

 _Should_ he be giving up? Was he just a mulish oaf who couldn't recognize when he was beaten and should stop making an effort?

Perhaps he was. He'd never been anything for Al but suffering, Edward had destroyed Winry, he'd turned Alphonse into someone who had been willing to murder, and now Ed had killed Envy. Maybe Ed _should_ have returned to the person he'd been in the wheelchair on the train to Liore, and given up as Al had. He'd seen the Truth, experienced _God_ , and had the potential to solve and repair everything with alchemy. But perhaps he was so hopeless even knowledge of the ultimate form of reality couldn't give him the capability of accomplishing anything meaningful.

But even if he should have given up, even if everything he spoke and did was doomed to total failure before he even spoke or did it, he still couldn't do nothing, and he still had to move forward. Nina and Al had taught him what happened if Edward didn't.

But _why_ was he so helpless and incapable? Was it just him? Or was Envy right? Were humans powerless to do anything but devour each other? Was he at fault, or was he running away from the Truth, as much as he refused to believe it, and this _was_ how humanity and reality worked?

At the barest edges of Ed's perception, he could hear four pairs of inhuman footsteps nearing, although unsteadily, and knew the Chimeras were up again and heading in their direction. Julia gave Alphonse an apologetic look and let him go, then walked in the direction of the closest pair, undoubtedly to give the Chimeras what medical help she could.

Edward knew they needed to leave these offices, and reach New Liore, as quickly as they possibly could depending on the Chimeras' conditions, that their last chance of preventing another Ishval would grow smaller and smaller with every second they remained here, but Edward cared as little about that as he did Catherine Armstrong would die, the Major himself had been forced to order his sister killed, and they wouldn't be able to rescue any of the rest of Armstrong's family before they were moved. Unless it was too dangerous to move one or more of the Chimeras far, Ed would be on his way after he'd given Alphonse a chance to grieve for a short period of time unless Al said he wanted to leave sooner, because they could never do nothing again and could never refrain from moving forward again and the jail Envy had called had doubtlessly alerted this complex of what had supposedly happened and security would be searching it. But Edward didn't care any more about saving New Liore now than he did Catherine was going to be murdered and Major Armstrong had been made to cause it to happen.

Envy was dead.

Envy had never truly lived, and now never would.

Edward was the one who had failed to give him a chance at living, and taken it from the Homunculus forever.

It had happened again. It would probably never stop happening, even though Edward had learned, even though he was accepting the truth, even though he wasn't running away, even though he wasn't doing nothing, even though he was moving forward.

Even if he shouldn't be struggling to save Amestris, he had to. He couldn't do nothing. But why should he? What was the point of it, when he couldn't take care of Al or Winry, when there was now no question giving Al back his body was an option, when dreams were fairy tales parents told children so they'd believe there was a purpose to growing up, when he was helpless to save and could just condemn?

Edward could see no answer.

But even that didn't matter now. He'd failed to save and murdered another Nina.

He knew he was rubbing Al's head and could see himself doing so through his tears, but he didn't know why he was. Rubbing Al's head was meaningless. People sustained each other by supporting each other, but he couldn't comfort Al. He'd never been able to do a thing to comfort Al or contribute kindness to his brother's life. He'd never been able to do a thing that didn't torture Al. He was a sick joke of a brother, and not even that, in every single way it was possible to be. Al almost certainly hated that Edward was touching him and that their bond of blood made him beholden to touch Edward.

But Edward didn't know that for sure, so he had to waste his time in a completely futile effort to take care of his brother.

And so Edward stood there, crying, and rubbed Alphonse's head even though his brother couldn't feel it and probably didn't want Ed to do it while Al, unable to cry, held Edward around the back even though he probably wished he'd never have to touch his older brother once more.

Envy was dead. At Edward's hands.

It should have been Edward.

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"Perhaps that is why the human existence is, as it were, incomplete and self-contradictory."-Anonymous Researcher

CHRONO CROSS


	22. A Forger and Forgeries

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 **CHAPTER 22:**

 **A FORGER AND FORGERIES**

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Alphonse knelt, one hand around Brother's back, but he wasn't genuinely seeing anything about him. All he could truly see was the metal spike ripping through Envy's body as his nephew screamed in agony and his nephew's blood sprayed from both sides of his dark green form, and the tears in Envy's eye and cascading down his face. All Al could genuinely hear was Envy's small voice saying, "I can't… If I even pursue what I want in my mind, I'd be a treacherous son… And I can't stab Father in the back…"

How could Alphonse have taken _any_ comfort, even a little, from the awareness he hadn't killed Mom? How could he not have known that meant nothing, that a murderous, self-centered, callous, deformed fetus like him was capable of killing his family and might murder one of the Homunculi sooner or later anyway?

He didn't know, and he had to know. He didn't know where he'd gone wrong this time, and he _had_ to find out why. He had to learn why he'd killed his nephew. He didn't know if there was the most infinitesimal chance he _could_ say or do anything to prevent himself from killing one of the Homunculi again, but if he didn't find out why he'd caused it to happen, if there was any chance, it would be incredibly smaller, if that was possible. He had to learn why he hadn't been aware he was capable of murdering his family and why he hadn't remembered Envy could control others' bodies as a fetus.

Assuming there _was_ anything at all he could say or do to prevent it from happening another time, when he was this malformed an anathema. There were answers to more questions than it appeared, but that didn't mean someone as misshapen as him could solve _every_ adversity, even if there was an answer to all hardship. He extremely highly doubted he could even come _close_.

Not when he'd negligently and apathetically murdered a nephew who had been suffering horribly transcending speech most of his life.

But Al couldn't discover an answer to what he'd done wrong. He was accepting the Truth, facing the Truth, moving forward, learning from his mistakes, and letting Brother think for him as a child should, but even that hadn't been enough. But he couldn't see what was left. He wanted to believe if they'd found a way to move forward from their murders of Nina and Hawkeye things would be different, but Alphonse couldn't find any reason to have faith in that.

He didn't want to think it was a possibility, but it was unavoidable.

It might be true. Maybe Envy _had_ been accurate. Maybe humans had no hope.

Al couldn't believe that.

But with him failing to find a solution, Al could no longer refrain from questioning it. Was there any way he could _not_ believe that?

Should he be asking that question, however? Should he be searching for the answer himself? Or should he ask Brother? He'd returned to the old Alphonse who followed Brother and others, and had followed where Brother led while pushing away all thoughts that spoke he needed to continue to make choices of his own as he had when he'd met Greed's Chimeras, but that hadn't been enough to save Envy. Granted, he hadn't yet been in a situation where he'd needed to make a choice of his own outside of not battling Envy, so he had no evidence he wasn't less pathetic now, but if returning to his old mindset hadn't been enough, could he take the chance he shouldn't do more than return to that mindset until that road was first tried? Or should he go further, and think for himself even less than the old Al, without perspectives or stances or opinions of his own that Brother might not agr–

The sheer wrongness of that thought smashed into Alphonse with the force of a freight train. How could he be questioning that? If he went that route, he'd be no different than Rose had been when she'd believed in Cornello.

Then Al _knew_ , and he resumed shaking violently, wishing surmounting language he could shake himself to fragments so his blood seal would shatter even though death was immeasurably more than he deserved. Had Brother not needed him, Alphonse knew he would have made wordless sounds and didn't know if he'd have stopped for the rest of his life, and he suppressed the urge to violently remove his arm from Brother and recoil from him. He had no justification touching him now, and Brother would hate him with everything Brother was when he discovered what Alphonse had done. He inexpressibly wished with all his being he _had_ died when he'd attempted human transmutation. That would have been incomparably more than he deserved, but if he'd died Envy would still be alive.

It wasn't not thinking for himself hadn't been enough! He'd murdered Envy _because_ he'd returned to not thinking for himself! If he'd been walking his own path and hadn't trusted in Brother to lead him over whatever obstacles they ran into, if it was possible to climb over them, as much as he had, Al would probably have become aware Brother had forgotten Envy's embryo could control other people's bodies, and then Armstrong wouldn't have killed Envy, Catherine wouldn't have been condemned to execution by her brother himself, and the New Liore initiative wouldn't have been sped up!

Al wanted to bury his face in his free hand and never remove it, but that wouldn't help Brother. There were no uncertainties anything Alphonse could think of now _would_ , but Al couldn't be quiet after _this_.

"I'm sorry, Brother!" Al cried, and Julia's head spun in his direction at the emotions in his voice, but she didn't get up from where she was kneeling beside a sitting Jerso, now fully human in appearance again. Thank goodness. "There's no valid argument it's not my fault this time, and it's yours!" His brother looked at him with his tear-filled eyes, and Al wondered if he'd be honoring Envy's memory and wouldn't be doing anything wrong if Alphonse, just once, forced himself to feel jealous Brother could cry. But no, as much as Al loathed himself for not being able to honor Envy's memory, Al could never be jealous of Brother for any reason.

"What's your reason for saying that?" Brother asked, and Alphonse cringed at the exhaustion in his brother's voice.

"I was so scared I'd make harmful," Al responded, "Selfish choices again after my words and actions when I thought I was a Homunculus, and I felt so guilty, I thought it would be best if I went back to relying on you, like I used to before we met Greed's Chimeras. Because I'm a child, and don't have the wisdom or experience to think for myself. So I resumed my old mindset, and if I hadn't, I probably wouldn't have forgotten Envy's inner true form can control human bodies." Brother showed no evidence of hating Alphonse now, but Al was certain Brother did. There was absolutely no way he _couldn't_. But that didn't hurt Alphonse at all. Even Brother's hatred was immeasurably more than Al deserved, but it was better than nothing, and Al drank it in like a flesh-and-blood human who had almost died from dehydration. "You didn't kill Envy, or Catherine, or accelerate the Homunculi's plans for New Liore. I did."

"It's my fault you thought you were a Homunculus," his brother said. But Brother had to entirely hate him, and Al had to move forward, so he was determined to live with his brother's belief he should support Al even though his brother hated him. "That's more proof," Alphonse cringed, "I'm the one resp–"

"None of the Chimeras were hurt worse than having multiple ribs broken," Julia interrupted, and Alphonse jolted at the amount of anguish in her voice. What else had he spoken or done wrong? "Their bodies are apparently more durable than ordinary human bodies. So they can all walk. And we've remained here long enough. Now isn't the time. We need to leave this place."

"Julia?" he asked, keeping his discomfort at her support hidden. Brother hated him, and Alphonse had to move forward. He'd live with anyone's support, as much as he loathed it.

"Never mind," Julia responded. "Can we please go?"

Al didn't want to. He wanted to continue to debate his responsibility for Envy's murder with his brother, and it was wrong to walk away from the place his nephew had died this soon after Al had murdered him. It was shrugging off Envy's death and murder.

But claiming it was Alphonse's fault Envy was dead had just caused Brother to feel even more responsible, and hurt Brother even more, and Julia too. Further, the longer they stayed here, the better the chances the residential office complex's security the prison Envy had called must have alerted would find them and one or both of Armstrong's parents would be killed if he was discovered with them. As terribly wrong surmounting the word 'terrible' as it was, they had to leave sooner than they should.

Mom must feel more than disappointment in Al and regret she'd given birth to him now. She must hate him with all her heart as well.

"Okay." Alphonse told himself Brother needed him until reality returned, then looked at Brother, who nodded. His brother grabbed the skin of his left arm through his sleeve with his automail hand and twisted it, no doubt so reality would become regular about him, and then rubbed his eyes and walked out of Al's hold.

Alphonse suppressed the urge to shift with relief.

"Thank you," Major Armstrong addressed Clara, tears still falling down his face. "Without your assistance, we might not have been able to defeat Envy, and Edward and Alphonse might be captives. I may have no time to write you a letter instructing the servants and guards at my home to cooperate with you as things are, but when I return to Central I'll speak with them personally. I recommend you wait approximately a week after you hear I've been recalled from Kelyair, then fake your robbery of the Armstrong mansion."

"I'll do that," Clara spoke.

The Strong Arm Alchemist looked at Brother. "What will you do now, Edward?"

Brother was quiet for a long time, then glanced at Darius, so the Chimeras would be aware Alphonse's brother wasn't taking charge. Then he responded, "I want to go to New Liore itself. We won't be able to convince most of the people already there and who will arrive, if any of them, they're being set up for extermination, but I'm almost certain the soulless mannequin soldiers that will be deployed against New Liore have bodies that are mostly human in composition. They'll be given life by Philosopher's Stones," Armstrong's eyes went wide, "So I should be able to reconstruct their bodies and minds without opening the Portal of Truth. I want to set up a large transmutation circle at a bottleneck in New Liore that will do that, then attempt to lure all or most of the mannequin soldiers onto it when they attack and disable them.

"You heard the bodies attached to Envy's outer true form talk. Each one of the bodies had a soul. Given how they moved when they were part of Envy, even if those souls were fully aware, they weren't thinking clearly. The souls giving life to the mannequins shouldn't be any different. There could be a way we'll be able to lure the mannequin soldiers onto the transmutation circle."

"Your plan is a long shot," Heinkel put in. "If the souls have that much trouble thinking clearly, there's not much of a chance we'll be able to direct their attention how we want to. And even if we can, how, if we need to, are we going to stop them from resuming their attack on the regular soldiers who will be defending New Liore once the mannequins abandon it? If they stop fighting the ordinary Amestrian troops, they'll probably be shot in the back. They're not ordinary humans, so the regular Amestrians probably won't treat them as regular human enemies. Even if we can direct their attention, it's likely we're not going to be able to do so for more than a brief period of time. Additionally, whether the souls are mindless of have trouble thinking clearly, the Homunculi wouldn't be deploying them if they weren't capable of wiping out a sizeable military force and an entire city. The souls giving the mannequins life probably have no combat skills and likely aren't capable of putting up a good fight, but they must still be deadly. Maybe it's because their leg muscles and bones are stronger than regular humans' are; maybe it's because their jaws are stronger than ordinary humans and their teeth are lethal threats; maybe it's because they can run as well as ordinary humans and fight lethally with their arms. But whatever it is, their numbers, combined with their ability to take wounds that would disable regular humans and keep coming, _must_ make them a meaningful threat. One that's probably so great it will be difficult for the seven of us to overcome it well enough we can trap them.

"Disabling the mannequins may be far beyond our capabilities." Brother clenched his teeth. "Are you sure you want to go to New Liore? I don't like the concept any more than you do, but perhaps we should give up New Liore as lost and try to save Fort Briggs and investigate Dante."

"If that's what you'd rather do," Al's brother replied, "I won't try to convince you not to. And I know my plan is a long shot. I intend to try to think of a better plan on the way to New Liore and while I'm there. But whether I'm able to or not, I can't do nothing when there are people who need to be saved. If I can't think of anything better than the likely lost cause that is the bottleneck, I'll attempt that. I'll go to New Liore myself if I need to, but I'm going."

If he hadn't already been shaking violently, Alphonse was aware he would have begun shaking violently again now at the concept of being separated from Brother, as much as it was wrong Alphonse be within six hundred miles of his brother, after the horrific defying horrific time he'd believed he didn't have a brother. But that wasn't an option, so he pushed his feelings away as best he could.

"I'm coming with you," Al told his brother. Alphonse had no idea how to ensure he didn't make selfish, deadly choices that hurt Brother and others now and had the potential to result in people's deaths, but Al couldn't stop moving forward after what not doing so had brought about, he couldn't do nothing after doing nothing had murdered Nina, and he couldn't give up on the citizens and soldiers who were in, and would be in, New Liore. Just thinking of getting up and walking when he had no solution indefinably sickened him so much, and terrified him more than anything could encompass so much, he wished transcending words his armor would fall apart so he'd have no choice but to never truly move again. But he'd have to attempt to think of a way while moving, and even if he couldn't find one, even though he wasn't grown up enough to know how reality worked and might make most of the same mistakes he'd made when he'd believed he wasn't Al if he couldn't find a solution, he'd have to keep moving. If he didn't, he'd be giving up a third time, he might stop moving forward, and he might murder someone else. "I'm never giving up on anything or anyone again, no matter how unlikely success is." Fathomless relief appeared in Brother's eyes. "Nor am I going to abandon you."

Heinkel sighed. He looked at his fellow Chimeras, and the expressions they gave Heinkel made it clear they felt the same. "If you're going, we're going. The more of us in New Liore, the greater the likelihood, if any exists, we can snare the dolls. Let's get out of here."

"I'll make my own escape," Clara interjected. "It will be easier to sneak through here by myself." She looked over all of them, her gaze moving to Al's brother last and resting on him. Alphonse cringed. But attempting to prevent death had to have meaning, whether Envy was accurate or not. Reality couldn't be that horrible.

"Thanks for all the help," she spoke to them all. "Attempted and forthcoming."

"You're welcome," Armstrong said politely, although he was still crying. He looked at Brother. "Now you need to get out of here, as fast as you can."

"Right," Al replied. New guilt consumed him at causing the Major's youngest sister to die at her brother's hands, but there was no question there was nothing Alphonse could say this time.

Still, he couldn't say nothing. Wishing his face could show the amount of the guilt he was experiencing it could, Al spoke, "I'm so sorry."

"As am I," Armstrong said back. "Now go!"

Clara had already run in the direction of the doors they'd entered through, and the Chimeras walked quickly, albeit with looks showing they were hiding pain, the way she'd gone, Jerso's arm around Zampano's shoulder and partially leaning on him. Julia went with them, remaining close to Jerso's other side in case she needed to perform medical alchemy on him.

Al walked after the other five before Brother took a step.

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"Armstrong was cut off in the middle of his call," Wrath's eye widened at the military police officer's words, a mixture of emotions erupting through him. But there was no way Envy could be dead. His outer body had been defeated, but he was too tenacious to have been killed, "However. Nevertheless, the prison warden carried out Nevo's orders, executed Catherine Armstrong, moved the rest of Armstrong's family out of Kelyair, and warned the public sector businesses. When we arrived at the estate and questioned Armstrong, he told us the Fullmetal Alchemist had ambushed him and destroyed the phone, and showed us injuries on his body as evidence he'd been in a fight. We were unable to confirm his story, but because he confessed his wrongdoing when he made his call, loyally made the call in the first place, and has done everything in his power to aid mansion security and the military police investigate the residential offices, I believe we should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"I concur," Wrath responded, not letting any of his emotions into his voice. "Thank you for informing me of the Armstrongs' situations and the matters surrounding them. I'll take things from here with the Armstrongs.

"With the Fullmetal Alchemist too, probably. I have a personal interest in seeing the Fullmetal Alchemist's efforts obstructed, so I'll likely personally involve myself in Kelyair's affairs over the next few weeks. Please inform your superiors of this."

"Yes, sir," the male spoke. "And you're welcome."

"That will be all," Wrath said, and hung up the phone.

He didn't move, fighting to stabilize his emotions.

Envy was alive. Wrath was almost sure of it. The humans had been proving unexpectedly resourceful, but there was a huge difference between 'resourceful' and 'able to kill a Homunculus.' In addition, the Fullmetal Alchemist's attempt to expose High Command had proven he and his brother were still soft. It was unlikely they would have killed an enemy now even had Envy been unable to keep himself alive by himself, or they would have stood by while one of their new allies did. Envy was likely alive and would get in touch with them sooner or later to confirm it; there was no reason to worry.

Wrath couldn't wholly banish his worry, but that wasn't irrational, so he would be satisfied with being able to mostly get rid of it.

He _wouldn't_ be satisfied until he was able to keep himself from experiencing interest in what the humans were achieving and fascination they were accomplishing it, and until he was able to stop enjoying locking horns with them and finding it diverting.

It was happening again. As angry as he was his older brother had been hurt badly and there was a small chance he'd been murdered, it was also fascinating and interesting the humans had been able to reduce Envy to his core true form and perhaps kill him, and it made Wrath's success at outmaneuvering the humans and hastening the inscribing of the Liore crest even more enjoyable and diverting.

This was sickening. Envy was likely alive, but he had to have been horrifically wounded a large number of times in order to have been reduced to his embryo form, and Wrath found it interesting and diverting the humans had done this. He'd wanted to be free of his responsibilities, he was no longer sure betraying Father was the ultimate evil, and now Wrath was taking _joy_ from how his brother had suffered. Wrath _had_ become disloyal. No loyal son or brother would be unsure betraying his sire wasn't the greatest wrong, or enjoy his brother's pain. He shouldn't be feeling these ways, and he had to stop feeling these ways, by whatever means necessary.

But the thoughts and emotions wouldn't go away any more fully than his worry about Envy would. Even as Wrath struggled to stabilize his emotions, he was wondering if the Flame Alchemist's success at depopulating and razing Liore, the near success of the Elrics and their allies at exposing Wrath and High Command, and their ability to defeat Envy's secondary body meant, as wholly unbelievable as it was, the newest generations of humans had advanced past the Homunculi in spite of their youth and the Homunculi's ageless experience, and the Homunculi would have to yield their positions at the pinnacle of the ecosystem of reality to those generations.

Why was this happening? Was it because he'd spent so much time with humans for so many years? Was it proof the soul inside him wasn't Father's extracted anger with memories inherited from his once-human body's mind and was his original human soul? Wrath wanted to blame Hughes' repeated attempts to convince Wrath to betray Father for this, but he knew it couldn't be that. Wrath had been interested and fascinated in what the humans were doing since his sister had informed him what Mustang had had in motion at Liore. Maybe, despite all his efforts, Hughes had gotten to him – although now that Wrath was admitting it could have happened he could tell with almost full certainty Hughes hadn't – but if Hughes had, the Lieutenant Colonel couldn't have done anything worse than exacerbate what had previously been present in Wrath.

The worst part of it was, try as he was attempting, he couldn't grow any genuine hatred for his treason to Father and Envy.

But it had to stop. It had gone too far when he'd fled from Dante. This was a desecration of everything being a Homunculi was.

If it wouldn't have risked Amestris' stability if the Fϋhrer became a partial amnesiac, Wrath would have gone to Father as soon as his work for the day was done to see if his soul was Father's anger and could be reclaimed by his parent, cleansed of all its memories save the ones necessary for Wrath to continue to serve Father, and then re-infused into this body.

Since there was no chance Wrath could have has memories wiped, though, what was he going to do? He wasn't going to act on his disloyal thoughts and feelings, and never would, but he couldn't continue to think and feel them at all. He couldn't be satisfied with ignoring them, or pushing them away, or stabilizing them when they became unstable. He had to remove them from his mind fully.

He wished Cordelia was here. Maybe she would know what to do, and would be able to tell him if he talked about this with her without specifically saying what the thoughts and feelings were.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was because he'd chosen his wife on his own, and was thinking about her a lot now because she'd been killed. If he stopped thinking about her, maybe the irresponsible thoughts and feelings would end.

Yes, that was what he'd do. He'd concentrate on his work and his responsibilities until he forgot about her as much as he could. The concept of forgetting about her felt like an abominable betrayal of its own, but Wrath refused to care. Father and Envy were important. Cordelia wasn't.

There was now a meaningfully larger chance Dante would target the businesses from Kelyair, or avoid targeting them, once many more of them were in New Liore. Wrath picked up his phone and dialed a number. It was time to take measures in anticipation of the former possibility.

As Wrath waited for the phone to pick up, he turned his mind to the question of how to send Kimblee to New Liore with the mannequins without revealing who he was. The Elrics and the illegal Milosian alien would almost certainly be there when the mannequin soldiers were unleashed, and a single large-scale transmutation could trap them all in one area or convert them to something else. They needed an alchemist with them to ensure they could fulfill the role for which they were intended.

.

Olivier strode up to the closed and locked cell, one hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword and Miles at her side, and looked inside to see a black-haired woman with her hair in dreadlocks, blue eyes, and a white coat with a thick white fur collar sitting on a bed with her hands in a wooden binder. Behind Olivier, nine soldiers aimed their rifles at the woman, all of them having previously been ordered to fire through Olivier and Miles if necessary. In addition, the Freezer Alchemist had been stationed out of sight in a ventilation shaft above the cell, where he was prepared to transmute with his Philosopher's Stone if the need arose.

"I'm Olivier Mira Armstrong," Olivier introduced herself. "Who are you and why do you want to talk to me? For your sake, I hope your story is a good one. We follow the law of survival of the fittest, but I still don't take attacks on my soldiers lightly, and I take attacks on this position even less lightly. Further, your profile and that you attacked alone match records by the Mountain Patrol squad of an incident recorded by the Briggs Border Patrol in Eighteen Ninety-Seven, before I was assigned here, when I mysterious woman stole food and supplies from soldiers patrolling Briggs Mountain. That gives me even more reason to see you as a threat.

"Don't make any suspicious movements. We shoot first and ask questions later."

The woman smiled pleasantly. "I'm well aware of the law of Briggs. Allow me to take this opportunity to say this: Thank you to all the soldiers of Briggs for believing in abiding by that law. If not for your dedication to it, I probably would have died when I spent that month up here, and I never would have learned one of the essential tenets of alchemy."

Olivier's eyes widened slightly, and her grip on her sword shifted into a more ready position. If the woman was telling the truth, that meant the first enemy who Olivier might not have been able to defeat had been a fellow adherent to the law of Briggs, but she had no time to spare thinking about how that made the inconclusive end to their confrontation less humiliating. "So you _were_ the woman who assaulted the Mountain Patrol squads?"

"That's right," the woman replied. "I traveled to a town near here hoping to apprentice myself to the famous alchemist Silver Steiner, but unknown to me, he'd passed away, and his older brother, Gold Steiner, a martial artist who was hard of hearing, mistook me for a girl who wanted to learn martial arts. But I didn't learn he was Gold Steiner until _after_ I'd spent a month on Briggs Mountain. When we met, because he was giving me a condition for learning martial arts from him, he told me I needed to survive on Briggs Mountain for a month in order to become his pupil, and as I believed he was the famous alchemist and giving me a condition for learning alchemy, I accepted his terms and traveled there. But if the Mountain Guard hadn't arrested me and informed me what the law of Briggs was, I might not have gained the mindset and the determination I needed to live through that month. At best, I would have returned down the mountain and failed to learn about the nature of the flow of the universe that is at the core of alchemy during my month on the mountain. I owe much of what I am today, from my knowledge of alchemy to my skill as a martial artist, to Briggs."

"I appreciate your gratitude," Olivier spoke. If the woman was telling the truth, Olivier did, and she was also pleased to know the teachings of Briggs might have shaped the life of an Amestrian who wasn't a Briggs soldier for the better. "But that doesn't give me any reason to believe your gratitude is genuine. Tell me your name and why you're here, now."

"I'm Izumi Curtis," the woman responded. "I'm here on behalf of Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric. Do the words 'nationwide transmutation circle' mean anything to you?"

Olivier was surprised, but she knew Izumi could be an agent of the Fϋhrer sent to investigate what Olivier did or didn't know and kept any evidence of her surprise from her face. "Why don't you tell me what they mean to you first, and then I'll tell you if they mean anything to me?"

Izumi shrugged. "Very well. The nationwide transmutation circle is a circle being dug by an immortal artificial human," Olivier kept her shock concealed, and readied herself to do so an unknown number of times before Izumi was done lying or telling the truth, "Who seeks to become one with the repository that stores all the knowledge of the universe and everything else." Was Izumi saying something that absurd so Olivier would think Izumi was being honest, and would have chosen a more believable lie if she was trying to trick them, or was she telling the truth? "He needs a special Philosopher's Stone to contain that knowledge, and Philosopher's Stones are transmuted from the souls of living humans, so he founded Amestris and enlarged it to create the circle for making that Stone. I'm here because Ed and Al told me your brother tried to warn you he needs to shed blood at Briggs to power his circle, but we don't know if he was successful, so I'm following up his warning. I'm also here to ask for your help in deposing the Amestrian government," she'd brought up engaging in treason with nine rifles pointed at her and no surety Olivier was disloyal. Did that vouch for Izumi's honesty, or was she willing to risk Olivier ordering her shot for sedition to gain Olivier's trust? "Which is a puppet of the artificial humans, and the artificial humans themselves, before this transmutation circle is activated. Ed and Al aren't with me because we failed to gain the means of achieving a coup that won't result in death, and they refuse to participate in setting up something that will."

If Izumi was being honest, that was good. No naïve idealists would potentially get in Olivier's way.

But there was no question as to whether Olivier should reveal she was a traitor to Izumi. If Izumi was being honest, she knew more about the danger to Amestris than Olivier currently did, and Olivier needed as much information as she could get. She'd have to take the risk of revealing her sedition to Izumi now, keep her guard up more than Olivier usually did, and ensure Izumi stayed in Briggs until Olivier was okay with her departing.

"That's similar to what it means to me," Olivier said back, and Izumi smiled, "Although I don't have the information you do. I believed my brother's letter, and I've been preparing to launch a coup of my own, even after all my immediate family but the Major were taken into custody. I had no desire to work with Mustang and Elric; I see the concept of a bloodless revolution as sheer stupidity. But if Mustang has abandoned that idiocy as the Elrics have, I'll cooperate with them."

"I don't know whether Mustang will be participating in _any_ type of revolt," Izumi responded. "Hawkeye was murdered," Olivier remembered the times she'd spoken to Hawkeye when they'd trained together during joint exercises, and experienced anger and sadness, but showed none of this, "And Mustang has given up on life." That was good news, if it was true. One of her rivals for Bradley's position was no longer a threat. "It's us or no one now, save for the Freezer Alchemist."

Olivier opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, there was a knock on the door to the cell block and it opened, admitting Henschel.

He closed the door.

"I'm sorry, Major General," he spoke, voice professional. "Major Armstrong was caught assisting the Fullmetal Alchemist to oppose the Fϋhrer in Kelyair last night, and as punishment for this, your sister, Catherine, was executed."

Olivier actively made her face a mask, in case it wasn't up to the task of concealing her emotions the way it was. "What happened?" she questioned, voice its most professional. Memories of Catherine attempted to move into her brain, but she kept them from doing so. She couldn't grieve now; Amestris was depending on her. She'd grieve if she could gain a short period of time to herself. Not grieving now wouldn't turn her into someone who just saw things in black and white; Catherine was as soft as Alex, and would never want Olivier to turn her back on the people she was supposed to be protecting because she'd been killed.

"We don't know," Henschel replied. "According to the soldier from Central who called to inform us, Major Armstrong confessed to letting the Fullmetal Alchemist into the offices of Mayor Nevo of Kelyair, where Edward Elric attempted to sabotage Kelyair's participation in the New Liore economic initiative and murdered the Mayor, and Nevo ordered Armstrong to command Catherine be killed in retaliation. But from what we know of what's going on with the Elrics and the government, and from how Armstrong himself ordered Catherine shot," now Olivier did clench her teeth. She didn't like Alex's soft heart and was fully aware how rational taking hostages was for dealing with soft people, but anyone who could force someone as kind as her younger brother to _himself_ or _herself_ order his or her sibling murdered, who could compel Catherine, if she had known Alex had ordered her death, to face the reality her older brother had been forced to order her to be killed, and who had executed the means necessary to force Alex to do so, had perpetuated cruelties more inhumane than most cruelties could be, "It's obvious there must be more to it."

Olivier wanted to command her troops to investigate what had happened and make the bastard or bastards responsible pay dearly for killing Catherine and making Alex the instrument of her death, but war was no more a place for vengeance than it was a place for idealism. It wasn't something personal; it was a necessity for protecting the helpless that those who participated in had a responsibility to carry out as rationally or clinically as possible. In addition, killing out of a personal desire and not out of necessity wasn't duty, it was as much barbarism as killing a surrendering enemy. Olivier wasn't the least bit ashamed of being an amoral killer, but she'd never murder someone for revenge.

She looked at Miles.

"This alters nothing," she told him. "We're continuing with our plans. However, I want the squads searching for the Armstrongs dispatched to Kelyair to try to pick up traces of where they were taken from that city. If the Mayor of Kelyair ordered Catherine's death, then they must have been held there until recently."

"Sir." Miles' voice was professional in his way, and he saluted her and departed through the door Henschel had entered through.

Olivier turned back to Izumi, whose face showed sympathy and understanding Olivier was almost fully sure, from all her years of judging character, wasn't faked. But even though it made it likely Izumi was who she claimed to be, Olivier didn't drop her guard.

"As it happens," Olivier spoke, "We've made contact with the Freezer Alchemist," Izumi's eyes widened, "And he's nearby. I'll fill you in on what our current plan is."

.

General Yelori put Atlas' hat, a Warrant Officer brown, on his head, then stepped back and saluted the former fugitive. "Welcome back to the Cretan military," he said formally, "Warrant Officer Atlas. We hope this time you will remain with us until you're old and ready to retire from the working life, if not longer."

"I can assure you I will," Atlas replied, keeping anything of what he felt from showing in his expression. He'd done it. He'd been pardoned, he was back in the Cretan military, and though he knew he'd be watched carefully for a long time, he could begin implementing his plan for obtaining God. "You have my sincere gratitude for letting me live and giving me another chance."

Yelori frowned slightly. "Thank former Lieutenant Colonel Herschel's recommendation." Atlas suppressed the urge to grind his teeth. He was still furious he was the reason someone other than the Homunculi was seeking the absolute Truth. "The alchemists in the Pendleton task force confirmed the underground Stone exists, so we're willing to believe his story about why you deserted, even though Herschel's loyalty is now suspect. But that makes you a loose cannon, and a decent military can do without them."

Atlas inclined his head. "I'll keep that in mind."

Yelori nodded. "See that you do. For now, report to Captain Howard for your first assignment."

He turned and left the room Atlas had been given in the barracks of the military base at Creta's capital, Vesuvara, closing the door behind him, and when he was gone, Atlas smiled.

After he got his assignment, he could begin making acquaintances with soldiers he didn't already know, and reconnecting with the soldiers he'd known before he'd deserted, in anticipation of establishing contacts when, after two or three months, the watch on him lessened.

.

Edward, his hood up, followed Zampano's lead and matched his walk as the boar Chimera, who had turned out to be the most skilled of the four ex-soldiers at covert operations, led them at an easygoing pace along the edge of a wide boulevard at the entrance to New Liore with completed and partially constructed buildings at its sides. Anyone who saw them would hopefully believe they were regular people out for a walk in the Fall Sunlight. Many construction workers and other civilians were walking and running through the boulevard, most carrying tools and construction equipment, and numerous workers were standing in various locations with meals spread on boxes and piles of equipment, taking a break for food.

"Poor souls," Heinkel whispered. "They're tiring themselves building a city its founders wanted to be torn down since they conceived of constructing it. They're toiling and straining themselves for nothing. What's happening here is worse than one idiot tearing down the achievements of another."

"And alchemists believe Equivalent Exchange governs the world," Julia shook her head, whispering herself. "How can they not see wrongs like this make it obvious Equivalent Exchange is a fairy story?"

Ed wanted to disagree, but right now he couldn't see a good counterargument.

"People keep going to that construction worker over there," Darius pointed to a man with short black hair and a narrow beard on the opposite side of the boulevard four buildings down. "He may have a position of influence. He's as good a place to start as any to ask for a place to stay in exchange for my former comrades-in-arms and I helping with the construction."

"If you're looking for a place to stay," a young girl's voice interrupted quietly from the alleyway they were passing, and Edward turned to the side to see a child with long blue-black hair and blue eyes, wearing a light blue dress with four green squares positioned at the sides of a square area the same color as most of the rest of the dress at the upper center of the dress, standing just inside the alleyway entrance, "You can stay with us, Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed reflexively assumed a guard position, and the Chimeras ran close together to his left to block the other people in the town from seeing what was going on. Once Ed, Al, and Julia were mostly shielded from sight, Edward walked quickly into the alleyway. "Who are you?" he questioned. "How do you know who I am?"

"My name is Clause," the girl identified herself. "I arrived here this morning with my Dad and my aunts and uncles after Fϋhrer Bradley made his announcement about the mannequins," Edward suppressed the urge to cringe. So things were in motion. "Uncle Majhal," that name was familiar, but Ed couldn't place it, "And Uncle Lujon are alchemists, and they came here last night with Dad and I to study the dolls who are supposedly going to attack this town. I know who you are because Uncle Lujon and Uncle Majhal believed you might show up here as early as today, and I've been keeping my eye out for you. Uncle Lujon used to work for the government," Edward's guard rose further, "developing mannequins for them," Ed's eyes widened, "So when he heard Bradley's announcement he knew more was going on here than meets the eye, and you might be innocent of the crimes you were accused of. He wants to speak with you about the dolls."

Edward looked at Zampano, and saw the boar Chimera shared Ed's concern this was a trap.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Zampano asked.

Clause glared angrily. "Don't you dare be skeptical of Uncle Lujon!" she cried in a quiet voice. "He keeps his secrets, but he's a very nice person! He came to our village with his fiancé, Aunt Lydia, a few years ago and used something he calls a Philosopher's Stone," Julia's eyes widened, "To save it from a famine, and didn't ask for anything in return but permission to hide in our village with his wife! Since then he's lived as a doctor, using his Stone to cure sick people and injured people and ensure we never failed to raise good crops again! Two of my friends would be dead now if not for him, and Dad would be in a wheelchair after he broke his back helping repair one of his friend's roofs! Uncle Lujon is a wonderful person, and his wife is great too!"

Edward doubted a girl this young could be so skilled at lying anger like this was false, so this Doctor Lujon probably had lived in her village for as long as she'd spoken he had been and done the things she'd spoken he had. But that wasn't enough to convince Ed this wasn't a trap. There were any number of reasons he could have hidden in their village with a Philosopher's Stone and not requested anything else back. And after all the disastrous mistakes Ed had made in the past months, Edward couldn't afford to take the chance this wasn't a trap without better evidence. If he did, he might cause another catastrophe. This time, one of the Chimeras or Julia might be killed.

But Zampano nodded, and Ed's eyes widened. Doubt and terror and fear consumed him.

"Okay," Heinkel said. "We'll see him."

Clause smiled. "Follow me!"

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" Ed asked.

"There's enough of a possibility this isn't a trap we've got to take the risk," Zampano responded. "Doctor Lujon and Majhal might be able to help us, and we can't let previous mistakes in the past hold us back from making all the effort we need to in the present."

That was correct, and Edward already knew that. He was letting his emotions rule him again. He pushed them aside as best as he could. "Then I'll come with you."

.

Clause knocked on the door to a wide one-story house that was almost fully finished save for the chimney, and after a number of seconds Edward heard footsteps. He suppressed the urge to attempt to ready himself further. He was already as on guard for something to go wrong as he could be.

The door opened to reveal an old woman with unkempt brown hair and golden eyes wearing a light gray, hooded robe.

"Aunt Lebi!" Clause cried. "I found him!"

The woman smiled. "So I see." She turned to look inside the house. "Lujon! Clause met Edward!"

There were more footsteps, and two males, one in a white shirt, brown pants, and a dark blue vest, with short black hair, stubble on his chin, and blue eyes, and the other in a light red shirt and brown pants with short brown hair, glasses, and blue eyes walked into the sitting room the door opened into from a doorway to the left of the entrance, relative to the direction Ed was facing. The person with the glasses smiled down at Clause.

"That's good to hear," he addressed her. He smiled at Edward. "Hello, Fullmetal Alchemist. My name is Doctor Lujon. I've heard a lot about you over the years, and you have my sympathies for being accused of murdering Cordelia Bradley. Even before I heard about the mannequins, I doubted you were responsible. I couldn't believe someone who has spent as much of his time helping the people he comes across with their problems as you have," Edward cringed, "Had premeditated murder all that time."

"Good job, Clause," the other male complimented the girl, ruffling her hair.

Clause smiled and reached her hands up to her father's hand, holding it closer against her hair. "Thanks, Dad!"

"You're welcome," the male responded. He turned to Ed and the others. "You're welcome to come in whenever you want to. Master Majhal and Lydia are busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, but there's no need for you to wait for them to come out and greet you."

Edward forced himself to shrug unconcernedly. "Okay." He looked at Doctor Lujon. "If you really do have a Philosopher's Stone," Doctor Lujon's eyes widened at the revelation Ed knew about that, "I "Keep your eye on it." He gestured at Julia. "She wants a Stone for herself, to protect her people, and she'll steal yours if she can."

Doctor Lujon sighed. "I'd lend it to her if I could trust it would help her, but I doubt it will do her any good. I know little about the Stone's composition and how it functions, but I've learned a small amount of things about it since I fled Laboratory Three with it, and although I don't know why, I can tell it's on the verge of giving out."

Julia's eyes showed disappointment.

He stepped to the side of the door. "But please, be seated."

Edward waited for the Chimeras to walk in and take the positions around the sitting room that would best enable them to defend themselves and their companions if this was a trap, then walked in himself, followed by Alphonse and Julia. He sat down on a couch, suppressing the urge to cringe as Al sat at his side. Edward had no justification sitting down in the same country as the person he called his brother.

Julia sat down on Alphonse's other side.

Doctor Lujon sat down across from them, and Lebi and Clause's father headed for the door he'd entered the sitting room through. Clause didn't follow, her face showing interest and obviously intending to stay in the sitting room so she could hear what they talked about, but her father gave her a stern look. Clause scowled and walked up behind him, and the three left the chamber.

Doctor Lujon chuckled. "Clause will make a fine alchemist one day," he remarked, "Should she choose to pursue that field. She has much more curiosity than I did at that age.

"At any rate, whatever Clause told you about me, I'm sure you have questions. So I'll be upfront.

"I used to work at Laboratory Three in Central. My fellow researchers and I were assigned to develop humanoid mannequins for the government, and at first I believed it was my duty as a public sector doctor to follow my orders and research their creation, even though their transmutation was a violation of the national law and the alchemist's code. But when I learned the Philosopher's Stone was real and each mannequin would be infused with one, I could no longer tolerate fulfilling my duty. Alchemists aren't Gods, and I believed the Philosopher's Stone should be used to benefit Amestris as a whole, not just the government. I, along with Nash Tringham, another researcher who shared my doubts, each stole a Stone and quit our jobs.

"We knew the government would be looking for us, and might even execute us to keep the mannequin project secret, so we parted ways to use the Stone for the sake of society on our own rather than together. I returned to my home village and reunited with my fiancé, Lydia, and the two of us traveled through Amestris in search of a location in need. We found one in a village in the East," for an unknown reason, the name 'Majhal' returned to Ed's mind, "That had experienced a devastating crop failure. I used the Stone to provide them with a successful harvest in exchange for permission to live secretly in their village, and I've lived there with Lydia, who soon after became my wife, as a doctor since, supporting the village with my Stone.

"Yesterday, though, when the Fϋhrer had a warning publicized you and the alchemist who had rebelled against him in the South wished to interfere with the New Liore venture with artificially transmuted dolls, my friend Majhal became interested in visiting New Liore in the hopes he could capture one if they attacked and research it. He's been interested in the alchemical creation of humans since before I've known him," Ed frowned, "Although he's never told me why. I've refused to share what I know about it with him in spite of his repeated requests of me to do so, but as the military's description of the mannequins matched the dolls I had been developing in Central, I decided to accompany him here in the hopes I could protect him should the mannequins strike. I think of Clause as a daughter Lydia and I have yet to have, so Lydia and I invited her and her father to accompany us, and we took an overnight train here. All of the hotels that have thus far been established here are full, but the acting Mayor had a few houses to spare, so here we are."

That sounded plausible enough, but it didn't decrease Ed's wariness in the slightest.

"Are you willing to tell me what brings you here?"

Pleading desperately he wasn't making another drastic mistake, Edward responded, "The fewer people who know the whole story, the better. What I will tell you is the mannequins were created to be soldiers," Doctor Lujon's eyes widened in dismay that appeared real, but it didn't make Ed any less wary, "And the government is going to deploy them against the people of New Liore and the soldiers here to kill them," Doctor Lujon's face showed shock and horror, "In order to advance illegal research they're performing you don't know about. If most or all of the rest of Kelyair's public sector businesses relocate here and soldiers come here to guard them, the doll soldiers will be attacking as soon as the businesses have moved. I learned of the government's scheme, and I'm here because I want to stop the soldiers."

"Then I'll be glad to lend you a hand," another voice interjected, and Ed turned to the door Clause, Lebi, and Clause's Dad had left through to see a male with unkempt brown hair falling to his shoulders and golden eyes, wearing a yellow shirt, a red vest, brown pants, and a brown bracelet on his right wrist with gold engravings and a transmutation circle at its upper center. Lebi was standing behind him. "So long as you leave one of the dolls intact for me to study."

"Majhal, I assume?" Zampano questioned.

"Indeed," Majhal responded. He looked at Ed and Alphonse. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you two. Before he disappeared, I heard a lot about you from your father."

It was then Edward became aware why the name 'Majhal' was familiar. He scowled. "Al and I saw letters you'd written Hohenheim when we were researching part of Hohenheim's alchemy." They'd discussed, and been stored with, Hohenheim's texts on human transmutation, and Ed's distrust of Majhal increased. "Forget it." Ed would have to talk about this sooner or later, so he might as well bring it up now. "Those soldiers are going to be animated by souls," Doctor Lujon gasped and Majhal's eyes widened, an eagerness Ed didn't like the looks of appearing in them before Majhal could mask it, "And we're not killing any of them. Even if we were willing to, we wouldn't give one of the bodies to you. Your letters were discussing human transmutation."

Doctor Lujon looked at Majhal with an expression that was partially sympathetic, partially wary.

"Which I assume you were researching," Majhal rejoined, and Doctor Lujon turned his look on Edward and Al, "Otherwise you wouldn't have seen our letters. Would I be wrong to believe this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"

Ed clenched his teeth, but if Doctor Lujon was sincere, the less secrets Edward kept from him, the better. "You wouldn't. We wanted to restore our mother to life. And if we're going to be working together, would you do us the favor of telling us why _you're_ interested in human transmutation?"

"My concerns are my own, I'm afraid," Majhal responded, meeting Ed's eyes.

Doctor Lujon stood up. "Come on, Majhal," he protested. "We've been friends for what, three years now? I won't support you if you want to resurrect someone you've lost, but I won't interfere. You can trust me. Do you want to bring someone back?"

Majhal was silent for a number of seconds, and then sighed. "It can't hurt to tell you. It's my beloved Karin, dead these many years. She died in a carriage accident when a carriage fell off a cliff. But I'm not looking to bring her back directly. I'd have to pay a heavy price in exchange," he looked at Al with an expression that revealed he was fairly sure he knew why Alphonse had armor. "That's all I'll tell you."

"That's enough for us," a new, female voice put in, drawing Edward's eyes to a woman with short brown hair and light brown eyes wearing and orange shirt and a white skirt. She must be Lydia. "We understand, and thank you for trusting us with that secret."

"I hope I don't discover that trust was misplaced," Majhal addressed her and Doctor Lujon. Lydia looked hurt, but Majhal didn't see the hurt or didn't care, and turned to face Ed and Al. "If you're not going to kill the dolls, I'll limit how much I cooperate with you. I'm sorry, and I admit it's selfish, but I value being reunited with the woman I love more than the safety of the average citizen. What are your plans for stopping the doll soldiers?"

This was it, and Edward couldn't breathe. If Doctor Lujon and Majhal were working for the Homunculi, this was the point of no return.

But they couldn't let past mistakes hold them back from giving a full effort in the present. Further, if Ed did let his errors do that, he wouldn't be moving forward, and he could never stop moving forward again. He looked at Al to see what his brother thought, and his brother met Edward's eyes to show he felt similar.

Ed looked at Doctor Lujon. They had yet to think of a better plan for doing it than the long shot of luring hundreds of enemies into a single bottleneck with a small group, but by now they'd become certain of the necessity of using a transmutation circle to reconstruct them. "We want to create a large transmutation circle here, somehow get the doll soldiers on it, and reconstruct their bodies and minds in harmless shapes."

Nothing implying Doctor Lujon wasn't who he'd said he was showed on his face or in his posture, but Ed didn't become any less distrustful of him. He was going to watch Doctor Lujon as carefully as he was sure the Chimeras would. Majhal too, and for additional reasons; the eagerness that had been on his face when he'd discovered the mannequins would have souls had reminded Edward too much of the look on Tucker's face as he'd defended his transmutation of Nina. Majhal had had years to steal Doctor Lujon's Philosopher's Stone and obviously hadn't, but something wasn't right about Majhal. Ed was sure of it.

"Then I'll share an amount of my research on human transmutation with you so we can develop a way to do that," Majhal answered. "But that's as much as I'll do."

"That's fine," Doctor Lujon gave Majhal an understanding smile and turned to Edward and Alphonse. "Based on my knowledge of how well Kelyair's businesses have cooperated with each other for years, I estimate we have at least approximately two weeks until the mannequin soldiers attack. So let's get started seeing if we can develop a countermeasure.

"What have you thought of for getting the dolls on the transmutation circle by now?"

"Nothing outside of luring the mannequins into a bottleneck," Jerso spoke back, "But I extremely highly doubt I need to get into all the reasons that's unfeasible."

But to Ed's shock, after a few seconds, Doctor Lujon looked as if he disagreed. Edward knew even better than before not to let hope rise, though.

"I wouldn't be so certain we can't draw them into a bottleneck," Doctor Lujon argued. "Tell me, how much do you know of what hot air balloons are capable of?"

.

"But I won't let it stop me from moving forward."-Roy Mustang

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD:

Episode 64: JOURNEY'S END


	23. Blind Arrogance

.

 **CHAPTER 23:**

 **BLIND ARROGANCE**

.

Roy, kneeling on the tiled floor of the living room in his apartment, his furniture moved to the side, finished drawing the circle around the matrix with a piece of chalk, completing the human transmutation circle. Weeks of sleepless nights researching the equations in the Philosopher's Stone transmutation circle that would convert the souls inside Amestris into a special Stone and the equations in a human transmutation circle had made Roy pretty sure he could combine the two circles, and he'd bought the ingredients for an average adult human.

It was time.

For Riza to live again, and for Roy to hopefully die.

No. Now that the time had arrived, Roy was aware that was wrong. Even if he brought Riza back and didn't die himself in the process, he'd kill himself as soon as a hospital confirmed she would continue to live. Every instant he was alive while she was he'd risk leading her to her death again. In order for him to ensure she remained alive, he had to purge this world of his abominable existence forever. If this succeeded, he'd write Riza a letter apologizing for being a horrible leader and letting down her faith in him his whole life, explaining why he was killing himself, and pleading with her not to grieve for the revolting creature he was. Then he'd burn himself to death, slowly and carefully, in a manner similar to how he'd tortured countless Ishvalan prisoners.

He reached over for the knife and slashed open a cut in the fourth finger of his left hand, then crawled forward and held it over the pile of ingredients in the center of the circle. Drops of blood fell into the ingredients, and Roy crawled back to the edges.

"Please, come home, Riza," he begged, tears spilling from his eyes and down his face. "I won't be here to drag you out of it, blinded by your belief in the pretty children's doodles I've scribbled for you on the chalkboard and not knowing any better, with my hollow promises of a better world this time."

Then he smiled for the first time in weeks, in anticipation of blessed oblivion, and pressed the palms of his hands to the floor before the transmutation circle.

.

"Why do the Milosians call Poros 'the mountain of God?'" Clause asked, sitting on the couch next to Julia.

Julia forced herself to smile again, and, even though the hatred of herself, guilt, and inexpressible anguish consuming her hadn't lessened, to her shock, she found it wasn't fully faked. She'd never met someone as eager to learn before as Clause was, and the tomboyish attitude the girl had shown over the past two days as Julia, too inexperienced with alchemy to contribute anything to Ed's, Al's, Doctor Lujon's, and Majhal's discussions, had spent her time indulging the girl's inquisitiveness by teaching her, reminded Julia of herself when she'd been Clause's age. Further, the girl was incredibly bright. Julia didn't believe in dumbing things down for children, but Clause had understood concepts many adults Julia had met had had trouble grasping with no problems. Julia was beginning to wonder if she was witnessing the next Elric.

In countless ways, Julia couldn't genuinely enjoy anything now, but in countless other ways, she had never even enjoyed teaching Karina this much.

"Because the ancient Milosians believed all life was created by lava," Julia told the younger girl. "According to Milosian cosmogony, before the firmament and the ground existed, everything was lava. But the heat given off by the lava provided the warmth necessary for life to be born, and the lives born from the lava were God, who was a being of lava and could shape it to His will, and humans, who had no power over lava but were meant to be a separate existence from it. God sympathized with the powerless humans and adopted them as His children for all eternity, then used the lava to create the firmament, the oceans, and the land, as well as all other living beings, and then made a home for Himself in the volcano of Poros, which is ancient Milosian for 'The Conduit to God,' so he could rest in the lava from whence he came. From Poros, forever dreaming in the lava He was born from, He watches over His children and creations, those He adopted and those He formed."

As Julia told Clause the Milosian creation myth, the blue-black-haired girl's face grew more and more delighted. When Julia was done Clause pumped her fist in the air enthusiastically. "I _love_ Milosian cosmogony! In every other creation myth I've heard, one or more deities created _everything_ , from lava to humans! The Milosian creation myth is original, and awesome! When I grow up, if women are allowed to serve as religious figures, maybe I'll travel to Milos, convert to your religion, and serve as a figure in it!"

Julia smiled sympathetically. "Women have a place in the Milosian religion," she spoke, "Archetypial. But like most religions, you have to believe Archetypial's teachings to be a part of it. You wouldn't be given a position in it just because you like its creation myth."

Clause's face fell. "Phooey," she said. Then she smiled. "But I still want to visit Milos. If you're able to give the Cretans and the Amestrians who are abusing their power the boot, would you please invite me there sometime?"

"I'd love to." Julia smiled, and again it wasn't fully forced.

"So how can your God watch over His creations and children if he's dreaming?" Clause asked.

"Because Archetypial believes all reality is an illusion," Julia replied. Clause didn't look confused, further confirming Julia's certainty the girl was bright. "Everything we see, according to our religion, isn't what it truly is. It's just what our conscious minds perceive that thing to be because we're incapable of comprehending what the thing genuinely is with our human minds, so we perceive it as something it isn't with our senses in order to be aware of it. A bush, for example, isn't really a bush, but we see it and feel it as a bush because our minds perceive it as a bush. When, in truth, the bush might be a flower of indescribable complexity. Archetypial believes reality in its genuine form can only be seen when one dreams, and only by the dreaming God."

"Another religion that refuses to face reality for what it is and thinks the truth isn't part of the matter around us," Ed interjected, walking into the sitting room. "You've encountered one, you've encountered them all."

Julia frowned. Ed had an immeasurable reason to hate her now, but she found how much issue he had with religion hypocritical. Alchemists pursued provable Truth, while religions believed in concepts they couldn't prove was true, but alchemy and religion were similar in that they looked to something deeper to make sense of reality. Julia was a scientist, but she didn't care for the rivalry between scientists and religious believers. She opened her mouth to argue, but Clause responded first.

"You're not making sense," Clause spoke. "According to Uncle Lujon and Uncle Majhal, to be an alchemist is to search for the truth of the universe and everything else, if there is anything else. Don't you do what you're saying religions do, and think the truth isn't part of the world we experience?"

"You have it backwards," Ed responded. "Alchemists seek the truth because it _tells_ us what the reality is we experience. We search for the truth to face reality, not to escape from it."

"But you still search for something deeper," Julia said. "Like priests and priestesses do. Yes, many followers of a religion run away from reality, but even those that do are like us in that they're looking for a deeper truth to find answers to their questions about why the world, the universe, reality, and existence are what they are. In addition, there are alchemists who run away from reality themselves. You should know that very well." Ed winced. "Religion, science, philosophy… they're not that different, and they could learn things from one another. They all seek the answers that lie beneath the surface. You also shouldn't forget science used to be called 'natural philosophy.'"

"I don't object to most philosophers I know of as much," Ed responded, "If at all. And I've run away like a pious girl I know did, so I know what that's like and I'm in no position to criticize people who run into religion. But I still object much more to how religions even exist in the first place. They base their worldviews on irrationality. Non-scientific philosophers try to fashion rational worldviews. God is something rational, not a being that doesn't fit in with logic, hypothesis, theory, and law."

"True," Julia agreed. "But religious Gods and Goddesses can be rationally argued to exist. Not proven to be real, but rational arguments can be made in favor of them. I don't agree with those arguments, but that doesn't mean they're not valid."

"That's stupid," Ed replied. "If you can poke more holes in an argument than a pincushion has, the argument isn't valid."

Julia still didn't believe most religions shouldn't exist, but she could find no counter to that.

Her face must have showed her doubts, for Clause turned to Ed with an angry look on her face. Julia was touched at how attached Clause had become to her in such a short time. "You're assuming you _can_ poke all those holes in those arguments. But you can't, not really. There's no proof an almighty entity didn't create everything, or wasn't created by something greater and created everything else, but there's no proof an almighty entity _didn't_! That means, as well, not all religion is irrational; we don't know deities don't exist, so there's nothing foolish about believing in them. It also means having faith in something you can't prove isn't wrong. If you can't prove it one way or another but there's no reason it shouldn't be trusted in, the only way to trust it is to have faith in it. Religion is an escape for less people than you think."

"It's not true the existence of God can't be proven or disproven," Ed spoke. Julia saw where Ed was going with this, but she also saw Clause's points, although she didn't agree with them. She wondered what to say now. "This is something you're not in a position to know about." Clause bristled far more furiously than Julia could have believed she would, and came to her feet, clenching her fists and glaring at Ed with an expression that dared him to say that again. Alarmed, Julia stood up, ready to grab Clause if she attacked Ed.

Ed looked surprised and dismayed past fathoming. "I'm sorry," he spoke, and he sounded as though he wished immeasurably he could hate himself more for his words, but he extremely highly doubted it was possible. "I didn't mean I know better than you because I'm older. I'm a child as much as you are. Further, _I_ don't know any better about a lot of things; not because I'm a child, but because I'm stupid."

Clause crossed her arms and, "Hmph"ed, looking away from him.

"What I meant is," he continued, "Unknown to you, science has proven the existence of God, and God _is_ inextricably intertwined with provable truth, not faith."

Clause didn't look back at Ed. "Sure it has," she answered bitterly and sarcastically. "You're just another stuck-up teenager who thinks his or her age means he or she is smarter than those younger than himself or herself. You're just like most of the arrogant twits from my village. I'd hoped all of you were different because of how young you were when you became a State Alchemist, and because your group works together even though you're drastically different in age, but I should have known better. Get lost. I don't want to talk to any of you but Julia."

Julia put a hand gently on Clause's shoulder, and the girl stiffened, then clenched her fists very hard. "Are you saying people don't take you seriously because of your age?"

Clause turned to her.

"No one but Dad," she responded, "Aunt Lydia and Aunt Lebi, Uncle Lujon and Uncle Majhal, and… my older sister…" At those words, following the break before them, a mixture of emotions consumed Julia wholly, agony surpassing thought at memories of Ashleigh among them, and she fought desperately to keep tears of her own from emerging while attempting to keep what she was experiencing from her expression.

She must have failed, though, for Clause's eyes widened.

"I–I'm sorry," Clause's voice was filled with guilt. "I didn't know you'd lost someone."

Julia wanted to say it was all right, but that would have been a lie. With each passing day, the indefinable anguish in her soul that was Ashleigh's death grew worse, and every morning when she woke up from a dream of spending time with Ashleigh, picking through the trash in the Valley of Milos when they were children or sliding down it when it was covered with snow or dueling with wooden swords in the back yard of their Cretan home or reading history books in the library, it hurt that much more to discover she'd just been having a dream and in reality Ashleigh was dead and gone forever. The pain had gotten measurelessly worse the morning after she'd learned human transmutations on the dead were impossible; she'd taken Al's warning about the Doorway to heart, but until then there had been a part of her that had still hoped somehow, impossibly, there was a way she could safely bring him back, perhaps once she had a Crimson Star.

Her vision blurred and tears fell in spite of her efforts, and, since there was now no point hiding her emotions or keeping them contained, she clutched her earring desperately, tracing its familiar contours as if by doing so she could trace Ashleigh's life back into reality.

She made herself smile. "Don't worry about me," she made her voice as reassuring as possible. "Do you want to talk about what happened to your sister?"

"I don't need to." Julia couldn't tell whether Clause was telling the truth or not. "It's been over six months since she fell off the roof when she was helping Dad repair it and broke her neck, and she wouldn't want me to spend time feeling lousy I could be enjoying life, so I've been doing my best to move on.

"Do you want anything from me?"

Clause's kindness reminded Julia of Karina, and Julia had to keep tears from falling again because Clause might be able to tell an amount of them would be falling for a different reason. She wished she could be teaching Karina now, and wanted to finger the bracelet Karina had given her, though she didn't.

But Clause had given her joy, in a sense, even Karina hadn't, and become so attached to Julia Clause had gotten angry when Ed had caused Julia to doubt, and Julia had Al for a friend. The gaping void where her friends in Milos should have been was still there, but though nothing could fill up that void, other people were filling other areas of her heart, and Julia was adjusting to being away from Milos. Julia focused on that until tears from being so far away from Milos no longer threatened.

Julia forced another smile in thanks. "No," she replied.

"I'll get Al," Ed interjected, looking awkward, but Julia shook her head rapidly.

"Could you please not?" she questioned. "He's in too much pain already."

A mixture of emotions passed over Ed's face, and then he responded, "All right."

He turned to Clause. "Don't worry," he reassured her. "I take you seriously. You were right to hope I was different; I _do_ know age and brains don't go together. Even before I became a State Alchemist, I was unusual; I became an alchemist at the age of six." Clause's eyes widened. "My brother and I were smart, too, though the people in Resembool didn't treat us the way the people in your village treated you. Maybe it's because of… my father… maybe it's because my family and I were close friends with the town's best automail mechanic and doctors, maybe it's because they're better people than the people in your village. But I know age and being smart are two different things.

"I spoke science has proved the existence of God because it really _has_." Clause's eyes flew wide. "But I can't go into any details about it. I wouldn't even have told you this much if I didn't want to attempt to undo how I hurt you. But I wasn't looking down on you."

Appearing stunned, Clause forced a smile and nodded. "Okay," she spoke. "I believe you."

She looked at Julia. "I'll go find Dad and see if he has time to play with me." Julia knew that wasn't likely. Clause's father was probably watching the soldiers and citizen arrivals head into the town. But Julia didn't want Clause to feel she should remain here and see Julia's agony, so Julia didn't object. Clause smiled. "You can talk to me about your loss whenever you want to."

Julia made herself smile in return. "Maybe I will. We'll see."

Clause smiled one more time, and then left the sitting room.

Ed stood where he was silently for several seconds, then sighed and asked, "Did Clause remind you of Ashleigh?"

"Yes," Julia responded.

Ed was silent for several more seconds, then spoke, "I understand, after what I thought I'd done to Al. That doesn't mean I like you, but I understand. You know that, right?"

Julia nodded, her stomach clenching and heaving violently. She'd killed Ed's nephew, and he repaid her by offering her support. It was so revolting, and it was so revolting she was forcing them to let her accompany them, she should have been incapable of eating without retching her food since she'd eaten her first meal as a baby.

She hated herself now. Al was incredible; compassion and torment weren't things you earned, but if there had been people who deserved compassion more than others and torture less than others, Al would have been one of the people who deserved to be treasured the most. And he had had been nicer and more supportive of her than anyone, save her family, had been to her her entire life, when they had no familial bonds connecting them and he'd just known her for a short time. In addition, Ed hadn't wanted her with them and still didn't, but he'd still treated her as a companion, doing his best to ensure she remained unhurt during their travels. And even if he hadn't, that he was one of _her_ companions meant she had as much of a responsibility to take care of him as she did Al.

And as opposed to cherishing Ed and Al, and fulfilling her responsibilities, and repaying them for their kindness and support, she'd injured them almost worse than they'd been injured before in their whole lives, and when they were already in torture defying thought.

Further, she'd asphyxiated the two in yet more cycles; now the further Al blamed himself for Envy's death and hurt because of how Ed blamed himself, the more Ed would blame himself for Envy's death because of his brother's anguish and experience more agony, feeding Al's self-blame and pain further because Ed was hurting, feeding Ed's self-blame because Al was hurting, feeding Al's agony because Ed was in anguish, and so on. And the more Al saw himself as responsible for Envy's death because of his mistakes, the further Ed would feel responsible for Envy's death because of his mistakes, making Al feel further responsible, in turn making Ed feel further responsible, and the spiral would wind on.

Julia was aware by blaming herself for Envy's murder and feeling responsible for it she was contributing to these cycles as she was contributing to the others, but not blaming herself and not feeling responsible would be unimaginably _wrong_.

It didn't matter she hadn't directly killed Envy any more than Ed or Al had. It didn't matter who was more, less, or equally at fault in situations like this. She'd performed the transmutation that had enabled Major Armstrong to murder Envy, so Envy's death was her responsibility, not Ed's or Al's.

She hated herself even more because she had to leave Amestris once she acquired a Star.

The less she hurt about not being with Miranda and the others in Milos, the guiltier she felt. She'd never hated Amestris or its people, but, partially because of how Ed and Al and the Amestrians she'd met since she'd crossed the border had treated her, the people in Amestris were starting to feel as important to her as the other Milosians were.

But there was no other choice she could make but to abandon them, even though that might mean those inside Amestris would become portions of a special Star without her there to make a difference. She could never turn her back on her people, though. Not after all they'd suffered and all they'd done for her. Additionally, they believed in her and trusted her to return with a Star and set them free, and she could never let them down.

Once she got ahold of a Star, she still had to return to Milos, though now it would rip more of her being from her to do it. Al, Sheska, the Chimeras, Doctor Lujon and Lydia, Clause, and the others had looked after her, supported her as though she was one of their own at least as compassionately and sincerely as her people had, and allowed themselves to become close to her, and Julia had spent weeks among the people within Amestris. But she was her people's only hope, and their faith in her was unfaltering. If she was able to obtain one of the mannequins' Stars she wouldn't flee New Liore until it was safe or had fallen, and she'd fight her hardest to protect Ed and Al and Clause and her other companions until the nearest danger was past one way or another, but she still had to walk away from those inside Amestris, even Al. As with using the Star, there was no other course open to her.

She hated it, though. And it made her hate herself even more than she did for murdering Envy.

 _You're such a compassionate person. You repaid Al's kindness and support by blackmailing him into taking you with him and murdering his nephew, and now you're going to abandon him and the people he cares about and is fighting for. You deserve a badge._

Her eyes clouded so badly she could barely see at her helplessness, and she wanted to fist her hands tightly enough to draw blood at her helplessness. Why couldn't there be a way to save them all!?

But this wasn't the time for that. Julia pushed those thoughts aside and shifted into a more comfortable position.

Ed didn't talk any further, and after numerous seconds Julia brought up the first thing that came to mind. Whether or not Ed disliked her even more now for murdering Envy, she needed to try to lessen his discomfort.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes and asked, "Why are you related to the Homunculi who have been manipulating Amestris? You and Al have yet to tell me."

"The one they call Father was born from… my father's… blood," Ed replied, and Julia's eyes that flew wide at what that meant. "You should also know one of Dante's Homunculi was born from my mother's blood," Julia pushed against new hotness behind her eyes, even though no amount of crying would be enough for this. How much was Al going to be forced to deal with before all this was over!? "And the other was born from the blood of Teacher's unborn son."

Without warning, Al ran into the room, holding a newspaper, and Julia rubbed her face and eyes and made her expression a mask. But if Al saw her tears, he gave no sign of it.

"Brother!" he cried. "The Colonel performed human transmutation yesterday, lost his eyesight as the price, and is going to be discharged from the military!"

.

Edward went cold.

The little that was left of reality reeled and tilted and spun violently, and Edward couldn't breathe. He couldn't move, though most of him wanted to scream and punch something with his automail fist, imagining it was the Colonel's face.

Deep down, a part of him had known this might happen, but he'd refused to let it into his thoughts. Even after throwing away his dreams and his career for hate-driven revenge, even as broken as he was, Ed had believed Mustang knew better than to perform human transmutation.

No. Edward hadn't believed that. He just hadn't wanted to admit to himself Mustang had been capable of human transmutation now. On top of everything else, it had been too much, and so he'd run away from the Truth. He'd still been running away, even _now_.

As if in a new beyond nightmare, Edward turned to look at Al and opened his mouth, but it was too dry to speak, so he waited several seconds and then opened his mouth again.

"How do you know?" Ed questioned. He wasn't skeptical or still fleeing the truth, he was asking.

"Mustang's landlord went to his apartment last night after the apartment next to his reported hearing furniture crashing," Alphonse spoke back, innumerable emotions in his voice, "And found Mustang lying on the floor of his living room, blind, a misshapen corpse lying in a pool of blood in a transmutation circle nearby. He's been admitted to the hospital, diagnosed as blind, and High Command issued a statement this morning before today's articles were completed, 'in the interests of minimizing the damage to morale by leaving the fate of such a popular officer unknown,' saying he would be discharged as all soldiers who lose their eyesight are. The words 'human transmutation' didn't show up in the article, but there's no doubt what happened. He tried to bring Lieutenant Hawkeye back, lost his ability to see, and High Command is using his blindness as justification to confine him to the military hospital where they're even better able to control him."

Ed clenched his fists so hard his automail's servos whined and his left nails drew blood through the glove covering his left palm. He was aware Julia was taking Al's hands, but just peripherally. "How badly was his face scarred?"

"According to the article," Al responded, "Save for the damage to his eyes, a cut on the fourth finger of his left hand, and the scrapes and bruises he suffered when he knocked over a table and chair in his apartment and fell on the floor, he wasn't hurt at all."

So the Truth hadn't injured him as badly as He had Judeau when He'd taken the Colonel's eyesight. That was good, if anything about this situation could be called 'good.'

Edward didn't know whether he wanted to scream or laugh. He settled on laughing, tilted his head back, and howled up at the ceiling.

"I know." Alphonse sounded as though he wished he could cry and hated himself for wishing it. "He was the ray of hope that pulled us back to our feet with a promise of repairing our lives, and by chasing our selfish dreams we condemned him to the same fate we were sentenced to. Furthermore, things have come full circle now. It's hilarious, in a terrible way."

Edward howled for an unknown amount of time, then quieted and looked back down at Al, whose hands were now intertwined with Julia's.

"When," _never_ 'if,' "we've saved Amestris," Ed said, "We'll have to work with Teacher and Granny to set up a way to take care of him. He's our responsibility. I won't be able to leave my position as a State Alchemist right after the government has been replaced, too. I'll need to use my influence to place Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman in new positions and ensure they have stable jobs there before I can leave. They're our responsibility as well now, as much victims of our selfish dreams as Hawkeye and Mustang are."

How couldn't they have seen it? How could they have been so blind not to know dreams were selfish and could only be realized over the bodies of others? How could they not have seen the happiness and futures they were risking because they hadn't accepted the loss of theirs? How could they have not been aware seeking anything for yourself meant you weren't paying enough attention to the wants of others? How could they not have known there was a reality outside of themselves and their dreams?

Ed _had_ to see it now, and know what responsibility and the lives of others meant. If he still didn't fully see those things, after they'd murdered Hawkeye and Envy's words and now Mustang had sinned and been blinded as the toll of his sin, Edward couldn't call himself a human being in any way.

"This _isn't_ going to happen again, Brother," Al's voice was unsteady, but mostly stable. "We're unsalvageable infants, but we have learned better about this. We're not pursuing our dreams any more, so we won't cause any further victims."

Victims.

Ed tilted his head back and howled his laughter at the ceiling again. That was it. Now that he was looking for a way, he could see that was how they could move forward from forcing Mustang and Hawkeye to clean up their miss. Once again too late, always _too late_ , he had the answer.

"Ed?" Julia asked.

 _Here I thought there was no way you could lose it any more. But now you honestly believe you might be able to do that, after everything. Are you attempting to redefine the limits of insanity!?_

But there was utterly no choice. As absolutely crazy as it appeared he could do it after all his mistakes and failures, even here in New Liore where they had the beginnings of a feasible plan, he had to attempt to do it. Even though he was incapable, and couldn't take care of Al and Winry, and had killed Envy, and perhaps he should have given up, Ed had to keep those things from stopping him, and to give his all with this, as he'd kept the majority of those things from stopping him, and given his all, with so much before. He had to move forward, and now that he saw the answer and Hawkeye's death and Mustang's collapse and loss of his eyesight were clearly before Ed, he was aware he had to try to do it because Al and Winry and Granny weren't the sole people who needed to be protected in reality. Maybe he was attempting to redefine the limits of insanity by thinking this, but he still had to make his best effort.

He stopped laughing and faced Al. "That's correct," he spoke to his younger brother, and Alphonse inhaled in hope nothing could encompass so desperate Ed wanted to cry, and his determination to give his all grew incredibly. That Al's words had raised Edward's spirits had lessened his brother's pain, if just a tiny bit. Julia squeezed Alphonse's hands.

"Because that's how we can move forward from Hawkeye and Mustang," Edward continued. "By promising, as arrogant as it is, as much trouble as we have taking care of ourselves or even believing we can, we're not just going to protect each other and Winry and Granny now. We're going to try to protect _everyone_ from now on, for the rest of our lives. Keeping that promise may be nearly impossible, but we're going to make it and try with everything we are. To protect the people of New Liore, to protect the people inside Amestris, to protect the Milosians, to protect the Xingese, to protect anyone whose lives we can make a difference in. So long as we're alive, I vow no one else is going to become a victim of human or Homunculi exploitation."

To his surprise, Edward found, even more crazily than the night they'd reunited with Winry, he actually believed they might be able to do it.

But like his ability to almost believe they could save the nation that night, this, too, made sense, he became aware. Because now they'd become who they'd believed they'd been. They'd learned, they'd accepted the Truth, they'd faced the Truth, they knew what responsibility and life was, and they were moving forward from everything they were capable of moving forward from. He knew how childish he was now, how hopeless he was, how much of a failure as a brother he was, and how much of a joke becoming stronger had been, but in countless ways, he was now the Edward Elric he'd thought he'd been before the Freezer had shattered his reality. And that fake Edward Elric had been able to save people. Now that he'd genuinely become that Edward Elric, he should be able to achieve far more.

And with that thought, even now his confidence regrew, if just a tiny amount.

Al must have been thinking and feeling similarly, for after several seconds, his posture became slightly more confident. "I swear the same," Alphonse promised.

Forcing himself not to cringe away, Ed walked up to Alphonse and clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Then let's see if Doctor Lujon and Lydia are back from the convenience store yet, and get back to work on our strategy for the bottleneck."

.

"Here we are," Knocs' voice sounded from beyond the blackness as Roy, sitting in the front passenger seat, heard and felt the car slow. "My humble house."

Roy didn't care. Nothing at all mattered to him now. He'd failed to restore Riza, and he hadn't been erased from reality. There was no reason to care about anything whatsoever, so he didn't. It wouldn't have mattered to him if Doctor Knocs had failed to convince the physicians at the military hospital Roy would be better off in a house than a hospital ward and persuaded them to release Roy into his care. A hospital ward, a house, seeing, not seeing… It was all the same to Roy now. A meaningless void. He hadn't even experienced anything so faint he might have imagined it when his nurse had told him his hospital caretakers had been ordered by Archer not to let Hughes see him.

"And it looks like I have visitors," Doctor Knocs spoke as the car finished slowing. "Who would pay me a call at this… What?"

Roy wasn't the most infinitesimal amount curious, but he should at least repay Knocs' consideration by making conversation now and then. "Who is it?"

Knocs sounded surprised. "My wife and son are here."

Knocs had told him his wife and son had left him after he'd returned from Ishval, but Roy felt no surprise of his own. He couldn't.

The driver's side door opened, and shortly afterward Roy heard the sound of a double wrought iron gate opening. "What brings you two here?" Knocs questioned.

A male voice, clearly Knocs' son, spoke back. "Good evening, Dad. We were in this area of the city, so…"

"It's been a while," a female voice, obviously Knocs' wife, greeted. "How are you, dear?"

So they still got along, even though Knocs' family hadn't been able to justify living with the doctor because of the atrocities he'd committed in Ishval. Roy wished Riza had decided not to take her position at his side for the same reasons.

"Little has changed," Knocs replied. "It's mostly been corpse after corpse." He was quiet for several seconds, and then continued, "But, believe it or not, I have a live patient in the car right now. Roy Mustang, the former State Alchemist who burned the corpses I experimented on. He was blinded in a misguided transmutation and discharged, and I felt I owed him due to how closely we'd worked together during the war, so I offered to set him up at my house and care for him until he can go his own way. His doctors at the hospital were unsure it was a good idea, but since I'm still a public sector doctor in the military's employ and they know where to find me if something goes wrong, they gave me permission. I'm going to be looking after him for an undetermined amount of time from tonight on."

Knocs chuckled. "Imagine, a corpse doctor like me, treating the living. Ridiculous, huh?"

 _No more ridiculous than a mass murderer like me striving to create a more peaceful Amestris._

Knocs' son cried, "Um, Dad, I… I, I want to become a doctor!"

"What!?" Doctor Knocs shouted. "Why on Earth would you want to do that!?"

"I know that you've been haunted by the things you were ordered to do in Ishval," his son responded, "But, nevertheless, you never gave up on helping people. That takes courage. And those things inspired me.

"They should inspire you, too. You're worthy of being a doctor for the rest of your life. For being a doctor, I love you."

Something too faint for Roy to be sure he hadn't imagined it stirred within the former Flame Alchemist then, but it didn't matter.

Knocs said nothing for a few seconds, and then cried, "I didn't ask you to praise me to make up for leaving me! Cork it, will you!?"

His son sighed. "I'm currently studying to be a doctor at Ozone University. Would you please let me visit over the following weeks and work with you to take care of Mustang, and critique your skill? Or do you not trust your own son's judgment?"

Knocs was silent again, this time for longer, and then Roy heard him snarl. "Fine!" he cried. "But prepare to be disappointed!"

He sighed. "If you want to be my assistant, we should start now. Could you please help me get Mustang inside? Then I'll make you two coffee."

Roy wanted to tell Knocs his son was blinded by his belief in his father, and Knocs shouldn't trust his son's judgment, but Roy couldn't care whether Knocs made the same mistakes Roy had, so he said nothing when he heard his passenger door open.

.

Kneeling on the floor of the broken down hut, Scar removed the cloth-covered book from the unburied metal case and took the gray string-bound book out of the cloth.

Even with Ling, Fu, and Lan Fan teaching Scar how to be much more stealthy, they'd taken weeks making their journey north to this hut in the Briggs Mountain Range, taking as much of a roundabout route that switched directions and stayed under cover as they could. They'd known the Amestrian government would be combing the state for them, and the searching soldiers they'd had to evade a number of times on their way here had confirmed it.

"This is it," Scar said to Ling and his retainers, who were standing behind him. He clenched his teeth before going on. "Now all we need is a reputable alchemist to decipher the parts of these notes I was unable to."

"I might know of one," Ling said back. "The customs official who smuggled me across the border, Han, is friends with a wealthy miner in the town of Xenotime named Mugear. According to Han, around three years ago, Mugear employed an alchemic doctor who used to work in Central. Han knows the doctor wasn't a State Alchemist, but little more than that. He doesn't even know the doctor's name. But he knows his reputation; and he was very highly regarded in the laboratories in Central. Perhaps we should pay Mugear a visit."

Scar stood up and put his brother's book in a pocket of his robes. "That sounds like a valid idea. We'll start there."

.

Wrath sat in his chair at the head of the table in the senior meeting hall.

It was now thirteen days after the night Envy had confronted the Fullmetal Alchemist at Kelyair, and the time had come. A sufficient amount of soldiers and citizens were present in New Liore, and researchers from the four functioning government alchemy laboratories in Central, having been told the mannequins were experiments in artificially transmuting part-monkey Chimeras who didn't need tails like humans to supplement their human soldiers, and the Philosopher's Stones that would animate them were storage capsules containing the insects that would give the dolls life when fused with them, had detached the assemblies including the mannequins and the Stones below Central Command and were en route on a military train to the supposed 'testing grounds' just outside New Liore. Kimblee was accompanying them disguised as a mechanic who was overseeing the assemblies and ensuring they remained intact. The soldiers defending New Liore had been informed of the impending arrival of the Chimeras, and would be awaiting the train. Once the researchers, Kimblee, and the mannequins had reached the field before the main entrance boulevard to New Liore tomorrow morning, the researchers were to leave, and then Kimblee would animate the mannequins and take cover up a nearby tree. That would alert the troops things weren't what they appeared to be, but that wouldn't enable them to deal with the mannequins.

Once the mannequins had feasted on the citizens and soldiers at New Liore, Kimblee had been deployed to find out what had happened there, and Kimblee had hunted down and used his Stone or Stones to destroy the dolls, Wrath would arrange for the Investigations Department to discover evidence they'd been played; the alchemist in the South had been unable to transmute mannequins of her own, and altered the military's own dolls and planted evidence she and the Fullmetal Alchemist desired to attack New Liore to trick the Fϋhrer into activating their Chimera constructs.

The evidence would also reveal the New Liore attack had been meant to distract Wrath from her and Edward Elric's true objective; assassinating the Fϋhrer and the six surviving members of High Command.

For the remaining Generals of High Command were about to die.

Wrath had worked with all of these people for years; a number, for decades. But he felt no regret. They'd been important pawns, and essential in carving the crests of blood, maintaining the State Alchemist program, and searching for already existing sacrifices, but in the end they'd been nothing more than any other human; pawns who danced at the ends of Father's strings. Furthermore, they'd been a burden; like the other heads of the Amestrian government since the nation's inception, in order to use them, the Homunculi had had to reel them in with the original lie Father would give them pieces of his special Stone when he became God, making them immortals who could reign over all the Earth, and the newer lie Father would provide them with a virtually indestructible army they could use to unify the planet. Killing the current High Command would enable them to end those lies; even should the Fullmetal Alchemist and his companions save New Liore from the mannequins and delay the Promised Day for years, they didn't need a High Command with knowledge of Wrath's and his family's efforts now that the nationwide circle was on the verge of completion and they knew of the existence of four or five sacrifices. All they needed was a loyal High Command.

The institution of the new training regimen would also probably be interrupted as little as Wrath had hoped it would be; High Command had implemented around as much as Wrath had hoped they would by now.

"At last," Cremin spoke. "Our shining legion of immortals will march forth, and the greatness of Amestris will be unveiled to the whole world!"

Jonesol turned to Wrath. "You haven't told us yet. Is this going to be the only time we're deploying them before we attain our immortality, or are we going to unleash them elsewhere prior to the Promised Day?"

Seldom one not to get down to business, Wrath replied, "You're in error, gentlemen. The dolls aren't soldiers, and they're not tools for changing the world." The Generals of High Command were now looking at him in silent shock. "Come forth, my prior classmates."

Quietly, seven of the former prospective Fϋhrers filed into the meeting hall through the blue curtains to the left of the table, relative to the direction Wrath was facing, swords unbelted. The Generals stood up swiftly, drawing their guns and aiming them at the leftovers and looking at them and Wrath with a mixture of fear and anger, and Wrath pushed his seat back and stood up himself.  
"What is the meaning of this!?" Gardner cried. "Are you implying we're expendable pawns, like the rest of Amestris!?"

"Exactly," Wrath responded, and Harris snarled and aimed his gun at Wrath. "You shouldn't be surprised, gentlemen. You know Father cares nothing for any humans, and his other children and I see them as fools. There was no reason for you to believe you meant anything more to him or us than anyone else in Amestris."

"Yes, there was!" Gardner shouted, attempting and failing to mask his fear with his anger. "You need us! You'd never have been able to come this close to obtaining God without a human government ruling under you!"

"You know better than that," Wrath reproved them. "Yes, we needed you. But once a pawn is no longer needed, he or she can be disposed of. You've been aware of that as much as we have, and have administrated in keeping with that belief for a long time. How many soldiers have you governed until they were ready to be deployed, and then spent their lives to carve a crest of blood? How many alchemic researchers whose work has been invaluable have you silenced when their jobs were complete?"

"Amestris will fall apart without us!" Gardner cried. "You can't administrate it yourself! If you try, the people will see it as an abuse of power and rebel, and then they might learn about your Father! And then what will happen to your beloved dreams of deifying your Father!? You _can't_ get rid of us, and you can't fail to deliver on your promises of immortality and an immortal army! We'll never outlive our usefulness!"

"I'm not surprised _this_ is something you don't know better than," Wrath spoke. "That's one of the reasons you have outlived your usefulness. You're short-sighted, and petty, and vain, and ineffectual. But that's why Father chose you to lead the government; not because you have any merits as officers or politicians," the Generals made sounds of rage and fury at this, "But because you were easier to dupe than officers or politicians who _weren't_ as incompetent would have been. Now that we have four or five sacrifices, though, and now that we're this close to the Promised Day, we don't need dupes to help us any longer. A competent but uninformed High Command who knows nothing of what's going on, and a hostage we can use to further tie down the hands of possibly existing traitors, can run this state until the Promised Day arrives, be it next year or years in the future."

Harris clenched his teeth and looked around, appearing to be weighing his chances of living by fighting back. "You don't need to kill us to promote Major General Armstrong to High Command! McKinley's and Edison's deaths left a seat open for her! Swear we'll be allowed to leave Amestris before your father activates the nationwide transmutation circle, and give us reason to believe you're not lying this time, and we'll remain loyal, even though you didn't deliver with your other promises! I vow it!"

Wrath suppressed the urge to snort. "I'm not as gullible as you six are. You'll plot to depose my family and I and take control of Amestris if I leave you in your positions. You're a threat to us now that what the mannequins really are is about to be revealed, enough of a threat we wouldn't have been able to risk you continuing to live even if Mustang hadn't delayed us at Liore and Dante hadn't rebelled. To avoid taking an unnecessary chance, you must die."

"You _owe_ us!" Jonesol yelled. "We weren't all members of High Command when we worked with your father to make you into the Fϋhrer, but you wouldn't have gained your current position if not for us! _We_ worked with the Homunculi to set up the program for raising and training the prospective Fϋhrers, and turning one of them into a Homunculus! _We_ took you in when you had nowhere else to go, and would have been sentenced to the street or an orphanage if not for us! _We_ gave you an education, and skills, and a job, and power! _We_ raised you, and made you everything you are! To betray us is the same thing as betraying your brothers and sister and father!"

Anger surged. This had gone on long enough. "Hardly that," Wrath corrected them. "You were acting on orders. Father created me of his own free choice."

He gestured to the leftovers.

Harris aimed at the one closest to him across the table and fired, but the swordmaster had moved out of the line of fire before the gun had finished aiming and grabbed the edge of the table, pulling himself into a flip and coming out of it in a two-handed downward swing that split Harris in half lengthwise.

The other Generals opened fire, but the swordmasters had moved out of the path the bullets would take in time and closed in on the administrators of High Command. It was over within seconds. A leftover jumped onto the table and decapitated Jonesol; a sword ran Follos through in the stomach; one of Wrath's former classmates swung off the table's edge and over it, kicking Raven in the chest and then stabbing him in the brain and out the back of his head through the eye; and Gardner was impaled in the heart. The last to fall was General Cremin, who took a sword diagonally downward in the forehead.

"At least tell me this…" Gardner croaked from where he lay sprawled backwards on the table, a sword in his heart, and Wrath looked down in surprise at that he was still alive. "What are the mannequins, really…?"

"I owe you nothing," Wrath replied, and one of the former prospective Fϋhrers walked up to Gardner and stabbed down into his head, killing him.

The leftovers stilled, and Wrath drew his own sword and charged one, slicing open his throat and bloodying his blade so it would look like he'd been in a fight, then stood still as another of his former classmates slashed open a deep cut in Wrath's stomach so he would appear to have been injured by someone trying to assassinate him.

Then the six surviving leftovers retreated through the curtains they'd entered the chamber through and Wrath part-ran, part-staggered out the double doors to the hall, shouting, "Assassins!"

.

Ed stood in the alleyway looking out at the fields before New Liore, his brother and companions, Doctor Lujon and Clause's father with him, as the white-garbed alchemic researchers from Central were assembling the contraptions that would animate the mannequins, surrounded by blue-uniformed Amestrian soldiers. Julia was looking at the Philosopher's Stones in the cylinders with too many emotions on her visage to tell what any of them were. Majhal stood out of sight on the roof two buildings away to their left, where Edward knew he would act on his own to attempt to kill one of the dolls and capture its corpse. Ed wasn't as worried about him as he was about the mannequins, though. Jerso was on the roof himself, watching Majhal, and Ed could disable one alchemist if he had to.

The mannequins, however, terrified him. In spite of his new determination to protect everyone and the tiny amount of confidence he'd regained, he knew as well as everyone else how steep the odds were against them. They'd transmuted the circle they'd developed for reconstructing the mannequins under the field before them once they'd learned where the dolls would be deployed, but Edward knew it was unlikely they'd be able to activate it. Once they'd heard the mannequins were going to be assembled near New Liore in the open they'd known the Homunculi would be sending an alchemist of their own with the mannequins, probably Kimblee, to defend against potential interference from Ed, and once they activated the circle, the Homunculi's alchemist would wreck it. They'd transmuted the circle underground in the small chance they were able to make use of it, but that chance was very small.

Their sole real chance rested on neutralizing whatever alchemist the Homunculi had sent, then pulling off their plan for drawing the mannequins into a bottleneck in New Liore and activating the transmutation circle there. And even though, appearing to be against all odds, they'd developed what looked like a workable plan for doing so, anything could still go wrong, and Ed's efforts could end in horrific catastrophe once more. There was a very large possibility, before the day was over, almost everyone else or everyone else but him and his companions in the vicinity of New Liore would be dead, and Edward would be wholly helpless to stop it from happening.

But Ed was still going to give his all to attempt to prevent it. He couldn't do nothing, he had to keep moving forward, and he was now the person he'd believed himself to be when he'd been able to save people before.

The last mannequins-and-Stone-cylinder assembly was moved within the underground transmutation circle, and Edward suppressed the urge to activate it. Doing so would likely just get him injured or killed by a rebound when Kimblee destroyed the circle.

"I still can't smell Kimblee or anyone else familiar among all those soldiers and researchers," Darius whispered. "If he's there, we're probably not going to know it until we make the first move."

"Then it's almost certain transmuting the circle beneath the field was a waste of time," Doctor Lujon whispered. "Darn it."

"I recommend again you return to the house you rented and guard Lydia and Lebi," Ed said. "You're not just a poor fighter, we know Majhal is going to be more of a hindrance than a help. You're risking your life to protect a friend who is willing to endanger yours. There's no reason for you to do that."

"Friendship isn't about receiving," Doctor Lujon replied, "But about giving. Majhal could purposefully attempt to kill me out there to attain one of the dolls and I'd still protect him. I don't care how selfish he is. I'm _his_ friend, even though I may not be his in the fullest sense. I'll risk my life to keep him safe no matter how he regards me."

Ed experienced a mixture of shame and disgust. Shame, because he knew better, and knew that was the right thing to do. Even if Al _did_ hate him, Ed would never stop giving his all to take care of his brother, so he should have thought the same thing applied to what one friend should do for another.

Edward felt disgust because, unless Doctor Lujon really was being deceitful, this made Majhal even more of a jerk than he probably was. Majhal had a wonderful friend who would do anything for him, even if the sentiment wasn't reciprocated, yet he was so caught up in his feelings of loss because his love had died he didn't see what he had now, and believed he couldn't move forward and needed to regain the woman he'd loved to have a happy life, so strongly he was even willing to place his happiness over the happiness of countless other people and her well-being over the safety of his devoted friend.

"On those lines," Doctor Lujon continued, "I'll remind you I don't care what happens to me if my Stone collapses and I suffer a rebound. Are you certain there's no way I can convince you to fight at my side if I use it?"

"I'm certain," Ed responded. "I'm not going to help you risk your life." Nor was he going to risk the lives remaining in the Stone, but he still wasn't going to tell Doctor Lujon the truth about what the Philosopher's Stone was composed of, even though he'd know soon when he saw how the mannequins were given life. "I came here to prevent death, not assist its possibility."

Doctor Lujon sighed. "So be it," he spoke.

Ed returned his attention to what was going on in the field before New Liore, palm sweating. But his uncertainties made no difference now as they'd made no difference before. He might not be able to do this, but he had to, so he had to give his best. It was that simple.

The researchers finished setting up the assembly for the last mannequins and Stones, then exchanged words he couldn't hear with a male in a technician's gray clothes and hat, wearing Sunglasses, and returned to the train station.

The time had arrived.

"I can't smell the technician's scent," Heinkel said. "The breeze is blowing in the opposite direction from us now."

Edward fought to keep his breath steady as the train departed and the technician walked over to the bank of levers before the cylinders holding the Stones. He could do this. After what he'd done to Winry and Al and Envy, Edward wouldn't let himself hope he could although they might have a feasible plan, but they _could_ do this. Even though there was nothing good about being a child, children were capable of accomplishing meaningful things. Clause had reminded him of that.

The technician began pulling the levers, causing bubbles to rise up in the cylinders and red light to shine within them, and Edward took a ready position.

He made himself smile his old, confident smile.

.

"I know that's a hard promise to keep."-Edward Elric

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST: BROTHERHOOD:

Episode 18: THE ARROGANT PALM OF A SMALL HUMAN


	24. The New Liore Battle of Extermination

.

 **CHAPTER 24:**

 **THE NEW LIORE BATTLE OF EXTERMINATION**

.

The majority of the Stones in the cylinders rose up into pipes and tubes attached to each mannequin, and as Doctor Lujon inhaled sharply in horror, heartbeats sounded from the assemblies.

Ed was impressed. However the mannequins had been constructed, no further transmutation circle was necessary for them to be animated once they were given Stones.

The mechanic turned and ran in the direction of one of the trees in the field, and Ed didn't know whether he was glad, in the sense that he could be, or frustrated. That was undoubtedly the alchemist the Homunculi had sent, but they couldn't get to him amidst all the soldiers from here, and wouldn't be able to when he reached the tree.

The soldiers audibly and visually expressed alarm and took guard positions, but none of them stopped the technician.

That was good. Now the mannequins had a lesser chance of catching them off guard.

The heartbeats continued at a steady pace, but after a number of seconds, they sped up, coming faster and faster. Edward looked on, prepared to react at a moment's notice, and as he did, he saw the heads of the mannequins move down and then up. Then veins rose out of the surface of their heads in the direction of the red circle in their forehead.

Hundreds of red currents coursed out into the air from the white inside the circles, and the red circles bulged outwards along the skin of the dolls while the white inside the circles bulged outwards into the air. Without warning, the white inside the circles extended further outwards in the shape of a vitreous membrae, and an eye with a red iris rolled up into the center of the bulge as the edges of what obviously was a vitreous membrae grew bloodshot.

The mannequins opened their mouths and _screamed_.

The soldiers surrounding them jerked or cried out or otherwise reacted, and Edward recoiled backward violently. They were indescribably loud, high-pitched, inhuman screams of immeasurable anguish nothing could comprehend, filled with pain and loss and torment and longing for something that could never be fulfilled, and it horrified Ed in a way no horror had in his life, and even the unnamable horror worse than horror he'd experienced when he'd believed he'd murdered Al hadn't surpassed in every way.

"This…" Doctor Lujon's face was white, and his voice was absolutely sickened. "This is what the Philosopher's Stones are made out of?"

Edward clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to cover his ears. How could he have spent approximately three years searching for the Philosopher's Stone!? "Apparently," he replied.

After what felt like forever but Ed knew had just been seconds, the screaming ended, and for a number more seconds nothing happened.

Then the tubes attached to the dolls' backs pulled free, liquid the color of Philosopher's Stones trailing from them and falling in drops, and the hundreds of mannequins fell onto their hands and knees. The far smaller force of soldiers surrounding them leveled their rifles at the dolls, but all the dolls did was push themselves up and stand in differing positions, many of them swaying from side to side. Edward again suppressed the urge to activate the underground transmutation circle. The tree the 'mechanic' had climbed was outside the circle, but if that was Kimblee, his Philosopher's Stone had more than enough range to break the circle if Ed circulated energy through it.

After seconds passed, the mannequins started speaking, but although their voices reminded Ed of the faces and bodies attached to Envy's outer true form, he was too far away to make out what they were saying.

Doctor Lujon was now in the large basket attached to the very thick hot air balloon that lay on the alley stone behind them, blue crackling while his hands touched the transmutation circle for transmuting the air and inflating it. Zampano, in human form, had boarded the basket with him, the rifle Julia had stolen from the human soldiers aimed at the doll soldiers, and Edward desperately pleaded the mannequins would stay swaying and speaking until the trio were in the air and attacking them.

But before the balloon could finish inflating, the mannequins moved.

Within seconds, the throng turned and ran at the nearest troops, multiple mannequins charging each soldier and leaping at him or her. A large number of the soldiers reacted in time to open fire, sending one or more of the mannequins jumping at them or their comrades falling back onto the ground in sprays of green fluid, but a minority of the soldiers were unable to respond in time to keep the amount of dolls assaulting each soldier away from himself, herself, or his or her companion, and a small number of mannequins reached a smaller number of troops and sank their teeth into the faces or necks or torsos or limbs of those soldiers.

As he forced himself not to look away, Ed fisted his hands so tightly his automail's servos whined and his left nails drew blood. He'd known it was almost certain they wouldn't be able to prevent every single person here from dying, but a part of him had still felt something akin to hope they could.

"So one of the possibilities I brought up was right," Heinkel, in human form himself, remarked as most of the dolls were blown off the troops they'd hurt by other soldiers. "They have unnatural j… _What!?_ "

Julia screamed in horror.

Every single drop of blood drained from Ed's face as he became aware what had surprised Heinkel and caused Julia to scream, and he almost lost the contents of his stomach.

The dolls that hadn't been blasted off troops were _eating_ the soldiers they'd downed, tearing bloody chunks of their flesh and muscles and brain matter and other insides out of their bodies.

Julia, shaking extremely violently, ran in front of Al, as though by doing so she could shield him from the unimaginable atrocity unfolding, but Edward, inexpressible anguish for what his brother must be experiencing consuming him completely, knew it would do no good. In addition, even if it would, he knew his brother wouldn't hide behind Julia.

The mannequins who hadn't yet attacked ran at the troops, who were now firing repeatedly at the dolls on their legs and on the ground, but though the mannequins on their legs staggered when the bullets impacted with them, many of them didn't fall and jumped at the firing soldiers, sinking their teeth into their necks or shoulders or upper heads, causing numerous soldiers to scream in pain, and ripping those portions of the troops' bodies off.

Even now Ed wouldn't look away. Ed's days of running from the Truth were at an end. Ed wasn't going to look away from _any Truth_ any longer, no matter what it was, and he was certain Alphonse wouldn't either. They'd seen terribly wounded corpses before, Ed had smelled the stench of blood, and they'd seen people die before, but they'd never seen death like this or this many people die at once, Edward had never smelled this much blood at once, and they'd never witnessed a full-scale battle. That didn't matter, however. No matter how horrible this conflict became, no matter how gruesome or grisly the wounds were the soldiers took or how agony-filled their screams became, no matter how horrified the screams they could hear from the townsfolk who had been standing at the entrances to New Liore watching what was going on became, Edward wasn't going to hide from what was happening, and he was aware Al also wouldn't hide.

That didn't cause this to feel any less horrible or painful, though.

"They want bodies," Al breathed, the same horror Ed felt in his younger brother's voice. "That's why they're eating human flesh. In their state, they think consuming human flesh will give them new bodies."

Ed was sure Alphonse was right. The souls in the Stones inside the mannequins were so tortured they didn't care how horrifically they brutalized their fellow humans. He'd thought he'd understood how abominable the Philosopher's Stone was by now, but he'd just seen the surface even of _that_.

How could the Homunculi have been willing to _do_ this!?

But there was no time to think about that. This made things unspeakably worse, and not just for the people and soldiers at New Liore. Because this was what made the mannequins so deadly, they weren't going to wait around once they'd depopulated New Liore for anyone to retrieve them or wipe them out. They'd hunt down people in the countryside and neighboring residential areas and might have consumed who knew how many other people before State Alchemists defeated them. He spun to Doctor Lujon, Jerso, and Zampano. "Is the balloon inflated yet!?"

"Almost!" Doctor Lujon cried.

"Fall back into the town!" an officer cried from among the outnumbered troops as the mannequins jumped at or ran at the soldiers about him and a large amount of the mannequins, moving more slowly and partially aimlessly, walked around the soldiers. "Request the main body of our forces bring as many rocket launchers as they can as well! Bullets are mostly useless!"

"I'll take out Bradley's alchemist!" Ed cried, then knelt and clapped his hands, touching the ground and opening a hole in the alley floor. He jumped into it and clapped his hands again, touching the surface in front of him and forming a short tunnel beneath the alley extending in the direction of the tree Kimblee, or whoever it was, had climbed and hidden in. Ed clapped his hands again and ran to the end of the tunnel to extend it.

.

Julia had thought she'd known what war, and living nightmares, were after the years she'd spent in the Valley of Milos and after she'd discovered Atlas had murdered her brother. She'd thought she was used to the sight and smell of bloody corpses, and was aware of everything there was to be aware of about how reality could feel like it was something as bad as the darkest visions her mind could create when she was asleep from all the times she'd walked among the dead Milosian bodies in the trash piles in Death Canyon or at Milos' funerals, or from her days walking through the countryside or streets of Amestris with an infinite emptiness that didn't even not have nothing inside her after she'd learned Ashleigh was dead.

But, in countless ways, even how she'd felt after she'd found out Ashleigh had been murdered didn't compare to _this_.

She'd known war, and nightmares, and death, but it had never been like _this_.

It was like she was standing in a dream.

In front of her, as she watched through tear-filled eyes with tears on her cheeks, the mannequins bit into the insides of the soldiers on the ground and tore out their body parts, chewed them up and swallowed them, then bent and tore out more. Sizeable parts of heads and faces were broken off in one bite, leaving bloody skull chips and brain matter and back teeth and bones naked in the air. Arms and legs were shredded like slabs of meat one bought at a convenience store. Fingers and toes were ripped off by maws and chewed up and swallowed like they were the remains of animals hunted down in the wild.

And Julia could do utterly _nothing_ to stop it.

Al's hands were on her shoulders, holding them tightly and reassuringly, but she was just aware of them at the edges of her perception. All she truly knew was she was witnessing a massacre incomparably more horrible than anything her people had suffered and _again_ she was absolutely powerless to protect anyone from becoming its victim. There were Crimson Stars _right there_ in the cylinders out on the field, and the doubts about using them she hadn't been aware she'd still had until she'd seen Kimblee's Star no longer existed with the mannequins brutalizing the troops and townspeople, but she'd never get close to them.

A number of mannequins vanished from sight down streets beyond buildings to their right, and screams came from a portion of the citizens who had been too foolish not to run away yet.

Something within Julia snapped. Screaming, she wrenched herself out of Al's grip and charged the two mannequins running at the alley they were in, barely aware of Al's cry of, "Julia!"

Darius, in gorilla form, outpaced her and seized the mannequins by the upper torsos, pushing them onto the ground, then she felt herself pulled back against a fur-covered chest she peripherally knew had to be Heinkel, as Darius brought his strong feet down on their thin legs and broke them, one after another. Then he grabbed their arms in his powerful paws and snapped them.

" _No!_ " Julia thrashed and kicked back against Heinkel desperately, smashing the back of her head into his chin, and it took her a few seconds to become aware the voice screaming shrilly and hysterically was her own. " _Let me go! I have to save them! I have to save them!_ "

Peripherally, she was barely aware Al was at her side, but at the cold touch of his arms as she took her from Heinkel she felt her body stop struggling and let him hold her against him.

"You can't do anything," Darius' voice came, and the words were something immeasurably worse than a molten hot, serrated knife twisting inside her heart. "The balloon is on its way up. We'll be able to neutralize the mannequins before they slaughter too many people."

Reality partially returned to Julia, and her head whirled with desperate hope in the direction of the rising balloon and basket, Jerso and Zampano already moving the net over the edges of the basket. Then it spun in the direction of the tree the alchemist had climbed, but no red was running from it. It wasn't Kimblee, or he couldn't detonate shrapnel out of one of the buildings near the balloon with his Stone and shred the balloon part at this range without causing the ground below the mannequins to erupt as well.

The screams of the soldiers and the townspeople felt like they were wrapping around her from all sides, suffocating her, and she couldn't breathe as Al carried her back into the alleyway, holding her against him as he did, Heinkel and Darius running behind them. Intermixed with them were the stench of blood and the sounds of gunshots, a smell and a cacophony that brought back every memory of crouching or standing behind cover as Milosians and Amestrians or Milosians and Cretans, or all three, fired at each other and her companions fell in storms of blood and she'd been able to do nothing but stay where she was as someone she'd known and loved had died in agony knowing even if she _was_ able to reach him or her she was too inexperienced with medical alchemy to mend a wound or wounds like the ones he or she had or the wound or wounds were too terrible for medical alchemy to heal and someone was going to die and she couldn't stop it could never stop it they were bleeding bleeding bleeding bleeding dying dying dying dying and she couldn't stop it couldn't stop it couldn't stop it couldn't stop it could never stop it could never stop it could never stop it _could never stop it_

 _Mom and Dad hung upside down in the darkened library with their bodies covered with blood in various places and a large pool of blood spreading on the floor beneath them and coating the opened books strewn over it, their eyes gazing out lifelessly and unseeingly at her as Mom's hair fell down behind her face to dangle below her corpse_

 _The male who had pretended to be her brother laughed. "But I_ am _your brother, Julia. This is his face, save for the eyes. I peeled it off of him, and fused it with my own with your parents' lightning."_

 _She sat on the ledge with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, the freezing cold permeating her even through her dress. Mom was dead. Dad was dead. No one knew where Ashleigh was, and it was probable he was dead. She was utterly alone now and completely helpless and absolutely abandoned by Creta here in this valley the Cretans called Death Canyon and everyone she loved had died and abandoned her and no one would come for her again or save her for the rest of her life and she was going to die here starving and alone._

 _Three gunshots rang out and three of the adults who had been yelling at them behind the wall with raised arms and fists and who were now climbing up the gate and wall and over it fell forward in sprays of crimson blood to fall lifelessly before the gate and wall. Then another shot sounded and the head of an adult male who had been climbing up the wall snapped back violently, crimson gushing from his forehead and his hat flying up and off behind him and to his right as he fell back out of sight behind the wall, and a fifth shot sent an adult male climbing up the wall on the opposite side of the gate back and down out of sight in a fountain of red as his hat flew up and off behind him. A sixth gunshot sent a male standing behind the gate falling back to the ground as crimson erupted from his upper chest_

It was happening again. She was there, in the library and in the caves and on the ledge in Death Canyon and in the Cretan truck, and they were all dying dead and they'd all left her and she couldn't do anything was absolutely helpless to do anything but hold her mother tighter or stand in the doorway or sit on the ledge before the Milosians had found her with her arms wrapped around her knees or let a stranger hold her protectively when _she_ should have been the one doing the protecting but she didn't have any power to do anything she was utterly helpless

No. The knife was gone, the anguish was far away, and the reality unfolding about her was distant. She wouldn't let this happen again.

Her combat training took over, and she maneuvered her body in his grip until she was leaning forward, and waited until Al's front foot was rising and beginning its next step and for the instant it was most unbalanced.

Then she threw herself into a forward and downward roll with the necessary force and angle to send him off-balance, and when he staggered, she used his distraction to continue the roll, break out of his hold, land on the ground, and rise to her feet.

She turned and ran at Heinkel, seeking to take his gun from him.

Metal arms grabbed her around the waist, but she turned in Al's grip and spun his helmet so it was facing backwards, hoping that would disorient him. Then she kicked out at Al's stomach with her knee and pushed off of it, freeing herself again.

" _I'd never do that to you, or any of your family."_

But it didn't matter she'd just attacked Al for a reason that had nothing to do with getting her hands on a Crimson Star to save her people. She'd already injured him horrifically by murdering his nephew, and by worsening the cycles torturing them, and she was powerless to do anything to support him or protect him. She was already an abomination, so what did it matter if she hurt him intentionally?

It didn't. All that mattered was she got one of the Crimson Stars across the field and saved the Amestrian soldiers and the people of New Liore.

"Cut it out!" Darius yelled at her, but Julia shifted into a battle-ready stance. "Keep it up and I'll knock you unconscious!"

"Darius!" Al yelled, and she could tell from the sound of his voice his head was facing forward again. There was an anguish, and a terror she'd never heard from him before, not even when he'd been his most worried about Ed, in his voice, as well as countless other emotions. "That's going too far!"

"This is no place for loose cannons!" Darius yelled back. "I'm not going to take the chance she'll get us all killed!"

What was wrong with risking that? Didn't they see? She couldn't protect or save anyone and all she could do was hurt people. And that would never change unless she got a hold of the power of the Star. If she didn't, the people she cared about would continue to suffer and die and she'd be forever helpless to do anything to stop it. So what was wrong with letting her risk killing them?

"Julia isn't unreliable like that!" Al protested, and that terror was still in his voice. "She's more than proven herself!"

How could she trick one or more of them into dropping their guard long enough for her to steal one of the Chimeras' guns?

"Do–" Heinkel cut himself off, and sighed in relief. "About d-mn time."

Julia knew what that meant, and the sense of being separated from everything vanished.

The screams and gunshots and the stench of blood swallowed her again, and she was aware of the agony and how much she ached all over, but more than that, what she'd just done consumed her, and horror engulfed her. What had she done? She'd just attacked Al, without any misgivings or regret, and it hadn't been for her people at all. In addition, even if she'd had no choice but to fight him for the sake of the Milosians it would have hurt her and she'd believed she would have felt incredibly guilty, at least, but it hadn't hurt her at all and she hadn't felt any guilt over assaulting him. Nor had she cared, after everything he'd spoken and done for her, and as much as she cared about him.

What was wrong with her?

But this wasn't the time for that. She turned and looked up at the hot air balloon, watching as the blue coursed from the hot air balloon, now floating above them at a steady level much higher than the tops of the buildings. It was spreading out the folded netting they'd made out of light but strong metal wires hanging below the balloon's basket and transmuting it into a large expanding net, and as it was it was extending the net down and to the side and changing its shape so it would fan out over the mannequins beyond the buildings and out in the fields, pulling the balloon to the side as it did. As it descended large portions of it vanished out of sight behind the buildings, and the portions that touched the ground she could see grew points that stabbed into the ground and anchored the net there.

Many of the mannequins Julia could see looked up at the netting, but just a minority of them attempted to walk or run out from beneath it. But they failed when the netting expanded and fell over them too. Seconds later, the screaming stopped.

Blue continued to course, and the netting shrank outside the city, and Julia knew it was doing the same thing on the streets she couldn't see, pulling the mannequins inwards. What she could see of it was moving in the direction of the partially constructed structure on the far side of the street relative to where they were, where a transmutation circle for reconstructing the mannequins in harmless shapes was hidden below the bottom of the building.

Her legs weakened, and Julia felt Al's hands on her shoulders, not holding her in place but clasping them supportively. He wasn't holding them tightly this time, and she knew it was because he didn't want her to feel he was restraining her, and there was a protectiveness and a desperation in the way his hands touched her that had never been there before.

Julia started at the sound of clapping.

She spun and looked at the open doorway to her right to see a familiar white-suited figure wearing a white hat standing with a Crimson Star in his left hand. Al gasped, and Julia couldn't breathe.

"Well done," Kimblee complimented them. "I didn't anticipate you'd use a hot air balloon."

Kimblee looked at Al. "If Edward Elric went after me, don't worry. I dug this tunnel as soon as I climbed the tree, in such a way you didn't know I wasn't in the tree." Julia's legs became weaker. "When the tree trunk was between you and I and I was hidden by the branches and leaves, I put my hat over the hand holding my Stone against the surface of the upper tree trunk to conceal the transmutation light, made it hollow with an entrance into it, then climbed down inside the trunk to the ground, closed the opening to hide further transmutation lights, and dug a tunnel below one of the buildings at the edge of New Liore. I've been waiting in here since then to see if you were here and, if you were, what your plot was."

Red shone from the Star in his hand and raced down his body, and part of the alley in front of him rose into the air before him in the form of a rough slab, in front of all his body but his face. But Julia tried to make herself breathe. Zampano had his rifle aimed at Kimblee, and he might be a good enough shot he could shoot Kimblee diagonally under the doorway from his position, as soon as Kimblee's words gave them evidence he was about to use his Star, before Kimblee transmuted with it. They hadn't failed this time. They hadn't failed all the people here. They hadn't.

They hadn't. Even though Zampano had told them he wasn't a skilled sniper so he probably couldn't shoot between the stab and the top of the door well enough to hit Kimblee. Even though Zampano hadn't taken the shot yet because Kimblee might be able to react in time to start a transmutation that would free the mannequins as soon as he heard a shot, before the bullet killed him, since he didn't need to move to transmute with the Star. That didn't mean it was all over. Not this time. Not this time.

Kimblee inclined his head, then raised it. "You have my regards now. I didn't believe anyone here had the technical skills to know how to build a hot air balloon." He frowned in irritation. "I'm disappointed in myself. I believed, as a veteran of Ishval and a proficient judge of character, I had the experience and the good sense enough to keep myself from falling prey to the same arrogance many other people society sees as criminals do, and underestimating anyone. But now it appears I haven't risen above that hubris. I actually underestimated you."

He shrugged a little. "But it's not a big deal. It's not as though you enacting a plan I didn't see coming will prevent me from doing my work."

Blue crackled and the alleyway to their left separated into a hole with a stone ladder extending out of its foremost, relative to facing the city, side, then Ed climbed up the ladder. As soon as his head extended up over the rim and he saw Kimblee, he froze.

"I'm glad you could rejoin the symphony," Kimblee spoke.

Then, as the feeling of reality being distant returned, though not as drastically as before, as Ed swore and Al cried out in wordless agony and his hands squeezed her shoulders gently, but not tightly, red crackled out from his hand, through the ground below the slab, across the street, and into the building below the net extending out from the hot air balloon.

It erupted upward in currents of red and a volcano of huge chunks, tearing the net apart.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It couldn't be happening again.

Julia felt arms picking her up and pulling her back against a mental body, then she was moving toward Ed and the metal body was bending forward to shield her from the flying debris against it and shield Ed beneath it. She heard cries and maledictions, but they didn't make sense to her. Nothing made sense to her other than the knowledge being seared into her mind it _was_ happening again, people were going to die all around her, die _horribly_ , and she was again utterly helpless and absolutely powerless to stop it, she'd _never_ had the power to stop it, she'd _always_ be completely powerless and people would die and suffer and suffer and die like her parents had like Brother had and she'd _never_ be able to do anything to stop it or even slow it down or lessen it the tiniest bit

"Klause!" Lujon's anguished voice.

Reality froze.

Julia slowly turned eyes that felt like they were moving of their own volition to the ruins of the destroyed building, to stare in horror that no human could express at the lowest floor of what had once been a structure, now open to the sky with no floors above it, where Klause's ruined corpse lay on the floor on her back near a shattered partially existing window facing the alleyway with a large, sharp chunk of stone impaling her head through the right eye and crushing it while shards of glass were embedded in her blood-covered body all over it. The corpse of Klause's father, bones sticking out of his left leg at unnatural angles, lay on its stomach nearby with a large piece of stone atop his neck; it must have crushed it.

Klause must have come here to watch over Lujon, terrified she'd lose him, and she must have convinced her father to come with her.

Julia felt a hand stroking her hair, but she didn't know who it belonged to. All she knew, all she could see, were Klause's inquisitiveness and her brilliance, Klause pumping her fist in the air enthusiastically and crying, "I _love_ Milosian cosmogony!" Klause asking Julia if she wanted anything from her, even though Klause was still grieving the death of her older sister, because Julia had lost someone too. Klause looking at Ed angrily because Ed had called Julia's perspective stupid. Klause furious with clenched fists, glaring at Ed because she'd believed he'd called her not as smart as him because she was young. Klause showing evidence she'd grow up into the next Elric.

But now she'd never be able to grow up to become _anything_.

Because Julia had been powerless to protect her and save her.

" _Rapturous!_ " Kimblee cried, and reality returned violently, no longer distant but more crystal sharp and clear than it had been before in Julia's life, a blinding hatred and fury Julia had never known before consuming her completely. She twisted so Al would know she wanted him to let her go, he did, and she ran around him to face Kimblee. At the edges of her perception, through her tear-filled eyes, with tears on her face, she registered the mannequins on the other side of the destroyed building were pulling the netting free from the ground with their attempts to move free and thus escaping it; a reinforced glass dome was covering the rubble-strewn alley to protect them from the mannequins, no doubt courtesy of Kimblee since the Homunculi wanted Al and Ed alive; Kimblee, still standing behind the slab of ground, was holding his Star up to warn them not to attack the mannequins or he'd use it on them, smiling in bliss; and Ed was now standing in the alleyway with his hands clenched into tight fists at his side, shaking violently. "This is the most fulfilling work in the universe! An agonizing death and the forthcoming screams of slaughter produce a blissful sound more euphoric than the sweetest lullaby! I don't know _how_ I was able to live for all the years I did without the Philosopher's Stone! It's the epitome of happiness!"

Julia ground her teeth so hard she was certain they would chip. She was going to take Kimblee's Star and then use it to peel his smiling face off the way Atlas had peeled Brother's off. "You're a disgusting monster," she snarled hatefully.

Kimblee smiled and shrugged. "I do my best," he responded. "But don't take me to task for loving my work, you hypocrite. You of all people should know better than to do that." For whatever reason, there was admiration in his tone, and Julia's stomach churned with disgust. "You're no different than I am."

Julia cringed. She'd never thought about things that way before, but as much as she wanted to deny it, it was true. She'd murdered Envy. She _was_ as horrific as Kimblee.

"Shut up!" Al shouted, and there was a fury in his voice she'd never heard before. "Julia is one of the kindest people I've met in my _life!_ You're nothing but an alternately apathetic and sadistic _murderer!_ You're blindly following the Homunculi because you believe that's your duty and that matters more than people, and you're _enjoying_ it! How _dare_ you compare yourself to someone as caring as Julia is!"

Kimblee sighed in exasperation. "I'm not following the Homunculi blindly," he disagreed. "I'm following them because they've given me permission to be true to myself, and my talents, as much as I wish. And that's why I'm saying Julia and I are the same. She wants the Star so she can use her abilities as an alchemist to their fullest extent."

Rage surged through Julia. "Who do you think you are?" she retorted. "I'm nowhere _near_ the same as you! I want the Star so I can _protect_ people! You want it to _kill_ them!"

"That's true," Kimblee acknowledged. "But the fact remains we're equally devoted to using the power of the Stone for the sake of wielding that power at its best. I was there at Huskisson's, I heard what you and Jerso discussed. And I saw your little performance when you learned what the mannequins are from inside this building. It's _obvious_ to me; you crave power for power's sake, to feel strong and accomplished, to feel as if you've used your talents meaningfully and are worth something. That's how _I_ feel when I use the Star; you and I are the same type of person."

The blood drained from Julia's face, and Al walked forward to in front of her side and stopped moving slightly in front of her, a position clearly meant to say he was shielding her but not blocking her ability to move so she wouldn't feel restrained. A small amount of the anguish inside her lessened, and something softened inside, at how thoughtful Al was being.

"I told you to shut up!" Al cried. "You don't know anything _about_ Julia!"

"I don't?" Kimblee smiled at him amusedly, and then faced Julia. "Then tell me, young lady. How do you feel when you use your powers as an alchemist to protect others by killing another? Do you feel accomplished?" Julia's eyes widened in horror, for there was no mistaking the recognition she _had_ felt that way. Her stomach twisted violently. "Do you feel proud you have the abilities you used to kill?" Julia felt like she was going to throw up. "You do, don't you? You feel empowered, strong, as though you have value, as though you've achieved something meaningful. That's how _I_ feel when I use the Star, or my explosive alchemy, to kill. _That's_ why I'm obeying the Homunculi. They enable me to feel those ways however I choose to, whenever I choose to. I crave the chance of using that power, with just as much devotion to power as _you_ , young lady, crave power and are devoted to it. You crave power because you want to feel as though you can make your mark on reality, like I do; the sole difference between us is I crave power for myself while you crave it for others. But your path has equal validity because I can tell you're fully committed to your belief in it, so that difference between us doesn't make us that much unalike. You're just as much a monster as I am, Miss; just as devoted to power as I myself am." Julia's stomach rose, but there was no escaping the truth of Kimblee's words. He _was_ no different than her. "You're my kind of girl." More disgust rose within her. Surely he didn't mean– "Wholly committed to your talents, and your beliefs, and in love with power."

"I told you, _shut up!_ " Al was actually yelling now, fury and concern and terror in his voice, and something else, now, something that, even through all the horrific anguish, caused her heart to stop beating. "She's been through enough! If you have _any_ humanity inside you, _leave her alone!_ "

"Al," Ed said, more worry in his voice than it could convey.

Across the ruined structure, many soldiers with rocket launchers opened fire on the mannequins, and Julia felt a surge of hope as the rockets detonated upon striking the mannequins and sent them flying or falling to the ground, whole chunks of a large number of the mannequins gone. But after seconds passed, all of the ones that had been damaged or sent to the ground began getting to their feet.

Several soldiers swore.

"Retreat!" an officer cried out. "Get as many of the civilians out of the town as you can!"

Julia found herself moving in the direction of the ruined building, but Kimblee held his Star forward. Then he looked up at the hot air balloon where Zampano was aiming at the mannequins and held his Stone up. "Ah ah ah," he warned them.

Ed clenched his hands into tight fists again, and as he did, many of the soldiers turned and ran, and a large number of the mannequins raced after them.

Then Kimblee looked down at Al and snorted. "I have plenty of humanity," he responded. "Much more than you and your brother do. I heard about what you tried to do beneath Central. You tried to turn most of the military against the Fϋhrer and the Homunculi, and it's obvious that was so a revolt would be as bloodless as possible. That was insanity. Humans survive and advance by devouring each other to make themselves something greater. We can't grow unless we feast upon one another, because everything comes with a price and is therefore limited. So we fulfill our dreams by taking from other people, because we can't realize our wishes by giving things up ourselves. Preying upon one another is one of the fundamental ways we're true to our hearts. To who we are, in addition. When we harm or murder others, we feel we're greater than those we kill or hurt. Inflicting pain or death is a way to affirm we're alive, and we exist. You and your brother are the ones who are inhumane," hatred even more blinding than before consumed Julia, "Because you're not true to yourselves. Your brother became a State Alchemist without having the determination to kill."

"I became a State Alchemist determined _not_ to murder!" Ed snarled, fury in his own voice at what Kimblee had said about Al. "And I stayed true to that since I was given my certification!" Kimblee's eyebrows rose, and, to Julia's surprise, approval appeared on his face. "Al's… stayed true to that all his life! Even by _your_ standards he's humane!"

"That's an interesting way of approaching things," Kimblee said. "But that's not the point I'm attempting to make." He turned back to Julia. "The point I'm trying to make is this: I rarely meet many people as true to themselves as you are, and unlike the hopelessly idealistic Elric brothers, you understand how reality works. I like you a lot," Julia felt like she was going to throw up, "And I hate to see you wasting your life with the Elric brothers when you could be happier being true to yourself with people who are okay with you doing so as much as you want." Julia's jaw dropped. There was _no way_ – "I recommend you leave them and come with me. You belong with us, not them."

"You're _out of your mind!_ " Al yelled, and there was more fury in his voice now than Julia had believed it was possible Al could feel. "Leave her alone, or you'll be the first person I've met in a long time who has caused me to lose my temper!"

Kimblee ignored him. "What do you say, young lady? The Fϋhrer investigated who you are after hearing my report about my meeting with Huskisson. I know where you come from, and I know about the situation the Milosians are in. I can tell you with surety Milos is outside of the range of the nationwide circle." This didn't lessen any of the tension within Julia. Kimblee had uncountable reasons to lie. "If you join us, I'll give you this Philosopher's Stone once we've transmuted the people of Amestris." Julia's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to refuse, but no words came out. To her horror, she realized she wasn't fully sure she _should_ refuse.

"What's wrong?" Kimblee queried. "What happened to this 'Klause,' and what's happening here now, prove you can't protect everyone, and they prove you can't protect anyone with the power you have now. So you know you'll have to sacrifice _some_ people to save others. Who are more important to you? The people of Amestris, who have oppressed your people for over a decade, or the people of Milos?" It didn't matter the people of Amestris had oppressed her people. They were all human, all capable of giving love and warmth and laughing and sharing burdens. "More importantly, who would your people prefer you sacrifice? Can you truly risk their happiness for the sake of the people of a country they hate? How would they feel if you did that?"

Julia's eyes widened. That was true. If she had a chance to protect the other Milosians and gave it up to protect the people of a nation that had oppressed them so horribly, they'd see her as having abandoned them. She could never do that to them.

"This is your last chance!" Al yelled. "Consider yourself warned!"

"So what do you believe is right, Julia?" Kimblee questioned. "If you come with me, you'll be able to protect the people who are depending on you, and what happened to Klause and what's happening here now will never happen to them. You can save them all, and you'll finally have the power you've been searching for all this time; the power you need to protect them. All you'll need to do is give up on the people of a nation partially responsible for your people's suffering, and who are among the last people the Milosians would want to save. With that in mind, will you come over here to me, please?"

Almost before she was aware she was doing it, she took a step forward.

Al jolted violently. " _Julia!_ " he screamed. "No, please don't do it! It's okay! I'm not going to leave you the way your brother did!" The reality of what she was doing crashed into Julia, and her stomach twisted violently. "You're not alone! I care about you! I'm here for you, and I won't leave you! Please don't listen to him!"

The power she needed was _right there_ , in Kimblee's hands. All she had to do was join the Homunculi, and it would be hers, and her people would be safe. But she couldn't. She'd let it happen _again_ , to Klause and to the people of New Liore, but that didn't mean there wasn't a way to save both countries and not abandon anyone. She couldn't give up. Not when Al was there, and cared about her this much.

She took a deep breath.

"You have no proof I can't save both nations," Julia spoke. "Forget it."

Kimblee frowned, but then shrugged. "Ah well.

"Then it's time to ensure you don't interfere with the symphony I'm conducting." Al ran back so he was nearer to Ed and Julia. "The Philosopher's Stone doesn't have the accuracy I need to kill most of you and leave the Elrics alive, so I'll just have to hope you're all still unconscious when I'm done monitoring the mannequins to ensure none of them escape the vicinity of New Liore, they've served their purpose and I've discarded them, and I have time to take the Elric brothers into custody." He took his hat off and tipped it to Julia. "Goodbye, Miss Crichton. It was a pleasure meeting you."

He put his hat back on, and then red coursed out of the Stone in his hands into the alley floor beneath them and it detonated violently. Everything shook and flew through the air below them and around them and above them, and then Al grabbed Ed and held his brother to him, and then he bent forward over her, and then everything was blackness.

.

"Never! I'll never let it happen again!"-Shinn Asuka

GUNDAM SEED DESTINY:

Phase 37: THUNDER IN THE DARK


End file.
